#be funny if it burned a couple of times down because of mishaps like the christiansborg castle in denmark

[primordialruin]

I want the palace to be in a baroque style because it's my favourite art movement in architecture :(

[mins-fins]

orbit of yours !

"power couple, really?" "you have to listen to me!"

synopsis: park jisung has always admired you. hardworking, effortlessly beautiful, talented, humble— you're pretty much the personification of the word 'perfect' (you would disagree though), but your relationship has never gotten past "admirers that occasionally exchange words", so jisung has vanquished the idea of possibly being in love with you because of your lack of interactions, he's just an avid admirer of yours! so when a few accidents and mishaps force (more like drive) the two of you to be in the same room more than you ever had in the past, the idea doesn't just remain a random fantasy crafted by jisung's mind, it becomes reality.

pairing: park jisung x male!reader

genre: high school au, acquaintances to friends to lovers, photographer!reader x soccer player!jisung, fluff, kinda comedy (im not funny), mutual pining, literally no angst, fast burn lowkey, sungchan helps reader realize his feelings and it's hilarious

warnings: swearing, mentions of burnout, oblivious bitches deny their feelings for a good 10k words, this is fucking cheesy, the nightmare which is senior year

word count: 12.2k

notes: GOOD LORD IT IS FINALLY DONE! i don't wanna be overdramatic or anything but this is genuinely one of my most favorite works ever, if you couldn't tell i am VERY jisung biased and im so happy to finally be done with this because it's honestly been so fun to write 🙁 i didn't beat the xiaojun fic in terms of words but this the second longest fic i have ever written and for my jisung debut its impressive that there is absolutely NO ANGST here, i'm just very proud of myself for this and i hope people like reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.. this is for all the park jisung lovers 👍

"WHEN WILL YOU ACTUALLY GET A PARTNER?" chenle asks the question so many times that jisung assumes the sentence has been programmed into his brain. what is it— like the 3rd time this week? he thinks chenle might be more obsessed with his love life than he is with actual important things, like college, graduation preparations, his role as a member of the student council, anything but jisung's uneventful love life, because that was probably the least interesting thing going on in his own life at the moment. "come on jisungie! i heard aejung has a crush on you!" he lets out a familiar groan, giving his friends a 'cut it out' look. "i don't really care about that kind of stuff.."

he hears all the frustrated sighs from his friends, and jisung just chuckles. he knows about the many surprisingly many— people who find themselves attracted to him. he acknowledges the fact that he has a lot of admirers, that a lot of people would perceive themselves as lucky to be in a relationship with him, he isn't new to the idea at all, he doesn't really get what makes him so attractive, such an eyeopener to his fellow students, but he mostly accepts the gifts given to him by his so called "admirers" nonetheless, not wanting to make them disappointed.

now, he says mostly because there are just times where he has no choice but to turn them down. some people get into their own heads too much, and he doesn't want to give some of them false hopes by accepting their gifts. that happened once, where a girl thought the two of them were dating because he decided to accept her gift as a sign of appreciation, that's when jisung learned that he couldn't just accept any and all gifts given to him by admirers who so greatly wanted a chance with him. jisung isn't so concerned about gifts, he wants a person who will be psychically and emotionally present for him, not someone who'll just buy him random things.

"it's gotten a little annoying.. all the confessions" jisung mutters, closing the textbook he had been jotting in. "they're nice yeah but some people just take it too far" he finally finishes, earning some confused looks from his friends. he just shrugs, shoving the textbook he had previously been jotting in into his backpack.

"but you're just so boring!" chenle whines, pressing his cheek against jisung's shoulder. jisung doesn't even try shaking him off, knowing that any of his attempts will be useless. "come on! all these people who would love to be with you and your still a lonely little loser!"

"loser? oh come on!"

"you know i'm right!"

jisung scoffs, lightly shoving chenle. while yeah, it's nice to have a lot of people admire him, everyone expects him to do this and that and act a certain way. it's like they enjoy perpetuating a false image onto him rather than actually admiring him for who he really is, and jisung doesn't think he should give people like that the time of day, they piss him off more than anything.

he's a little lost in his thought when a familiar voice sounds in his ears, a couple of giggles following the sound. "you're too funny y/n!" one of them shouted, poking a familiar figure in the shoulder, and jisung's eyes fall on you immediately, as if on instinct. you were looking as you always did, a familiar dslr camera hanging from your neck, that polite smile on your face as your friend continues poking your shoulder.

lately, you'd been quite the topic of interest among your fellow schoolmates. now that's not abnormal at all, you somehow always manage to be the talk of the town in school, you could do the smallest thing and somehow people could still make huge talk about it.

jisung would never say it, not out loud or even in mutters to himself, but he's always held a unique admiration for you, one he doesn't think he could actually put into words. there's something about you that pulls jisung in, like your a magnet and he's an oblivious piece of metal, slowly getting closer and closer to you without being able to do anything about it.

everything about you is beautiful. your eyes are a beautiful brown color, your smile is a beautiful stretch that shows off your perfect white teeth, your hair is a beautiful mix of raven and brunette. oh, and your voice is so beautiful too, it's so soft, gentle, but also deep.

you're like an angel.

at least to jisung you are.

it's pretty funny, actually, your so wrapped up in your own things that you barely notice the sheer amount of people who want to date you. you don't acknowledge romantic advances a lot, and even when you do, it always ends in rejection. you talk a lot, and your words are always pure and witty, your laughter is natural, your smile is contagious.

but.. jisung doesn't like you. he only likes you in the friend kinda way, he just wants to be friends with you. you look nice! smell nice, dress nice, speak nice..

jisung knows a lot more about you than his friends do. despite the fact that the two of you have never officially deemed yourselves "friends", he's always known little facts about you, as you him. the two of you have been going to school together for seven years, so the idea of not knowing anything about each other seems ridiculous.

you're a photographer, your favorite color is blue, specifically lighter shades, your favorite subject is history, your lucky number is 2 because of your birthdate being 02/02/02, your favorite flowers are daisies, you don't really enjoy sports, but if you were to choose one to play, it'd be baseball, and you want to go to college for journalism.

but jisung can't say that he likes you, because even if you two know all these things about each other, you've never considered yourselves "friends", all you do is admire from afar—

and when you do interact, it's just short and sweet sentences exchanged between you two, mostly because the both of you are so busy, that you can't afford to just stop and talk. sometimes, jisung wishes his life was just a little less hectic and he could stop and talk to you, because that's what he wants to do.

"what's with you?" jisung immediately yelps as chenle flicks his forehead, and he resists the urge to punch the older in the face. "gawking at y/n? really?"

"i'm not—" jisung hates that he feels his face burn. "i'm not gawking, i'm just.. i was just looking at him".

"looking at him with hearts in your eyes".

jisung scoffs at chenle's audacity, as if he wasn't doing exactly that a good few minutes ago. he would never admit it out loud before, so why should he admit it now? he'd never live it down if anybody ever found out..

"you know.." chenle begins, tapping his finger onto the desk in front of him. "you two would be a great couple" and the words are enough to make jisung roll his eyes once again. "a power couple!"

"power couple, really?" jisung raises an eyebrow, chenle never fails to say something that confuses him. he finds the words to be ridiculous, but his reaction just seems to make chenle even more giddy, because he continues;

"you have to listen to me!" chenle persists, and jisung is about to check out of the conversation completely.

"y/n is a photographer for sports journalism, you play soccer, you've known each for what.. ever? he's pretty, you clearly have the hots for him—"

"i do not!" jisung immediately yells in rebuttal, much louder than he wanted to. "yeah he's.. cute but anyone with eyes can see that, i'm not in love with him or anything".

chenle raises an eyebrow, suspicious, but jisung remains stubborn, crossing his arms as he averts his gaze from his best friend.

yes, you are cute, anybody with two functioning eyes can see that.

"i think park jisung might have a crush on you".

at the words, you look up from your camera, meeting eyes with your close friend, sungchan. you blink, as if dumbfounded, then snicker. "park jisung? are you trying to boost my ego or something?"

you know park jisung, you know about how probably half the students in this room dream of having a chance with him. so many people like park jisung, so many people want park jisung.

and if you think about it, you can't exactly blame them for that..

"don't laugh! i'm serious! he looked like he was about to devour you, did you see his eyes!?"

the words just get another laugh out of you, the words seem ridiculous in your eyes, because why would park jisung, beautiful, talented, striking park jisung have a crush on you? in your eyes, your pretty much nothing to him.

"okay.. why would park jisung ever be interested in me?" you ask, rearranging your camera as you raise an eyebrow at sungchan, who simply deadpans at you, that familiar 'are you serious?' look in his eyes.

"okay let me see, your smart, pretty, everyone likes you at this point, also— the two of you are pretty much perfect for each other! you'd be a power couple!"

you furrow your eyebrows, a power couple? you'd never heard that phrase used to talk about somebody your friends had been "shipping" you with, your not even sure if you can even consider yourself friends with jisung, because the two of you can never actually talk to each other without someone coming up and interrupting the interaction.

you'd love to just be able to talk to park jisung, just the two of you, one on one.

"power couple? that's funny.."

"you think everything is funny" ironically, you laugh at your friends words. "this could be like— your only chance at having an actual romantic connection with someone".

"i don't care that much about romance, chan" you muse, humming as you turn off your camera. your eyes wander over to jisung, who is very much distracted by something stupid chenle is saying, he's laughing about something, laughing hard too.

there is no reason for him to look so pretty as he laughs like a maniac..

he's cute, you say in your mind, he is absolutely adorable.

"WHAT DID YOU GUYS GET ON THAT STATISTICS TEST FOR SONG?" a boy from the same year and member of the soccer team along with jisung inquired. they sat on the bleachers in front of field, watching as the baton club practices. they have to practice this week, unfortunately, so jisung's schedule had become tight and packed, he barely had any free time these days, it was all exams, college tours, last minute extracurriculars, and practice, practice, practice. "i got a b plus" one of his classmates responds, the other responded; "i got a b on mine". jisung was very far removed from the current conversation, his eyes on a familiar trio of sports journalists on the other side of the field, a trio which included you, mesmerizing you. he sees you often these days, with that same dslr camera around your neck, a pretty smile stuck on your face.

"you, jisung! what score did you get?" one of his classmates asks, but jisung was occupied, so he didn't answer. a tap on his shoulder makes jisung snap out of his staring fit, and he blinks a few times, assessing where he is. "what?"

"we were asking about the marks on the recent statistics test!"

"ah" jisung presses his lips together. "i got an a plus" he says the words casually, but it causes for a cheer to be sounded by his fellow classmates, who shook him and slapped his back supportively.

"you're so smart jisungie!"

the praise from his classmates get a smile out of jisung, but he isn't focusing on that, his attention is on you. even with how your across the field, he can clearly see all of your features, the sun shining on your face makes you look majestic, like an actual angel, jisung isn't sure why he's even focusing so much on your face, but he can't focus on anything else, because his eyes just naturally always wander over to you.

"will this ever finish?" you inquire, pertaining to the baton club, who were still on the field even after they were supposed to get off. "i'm supposed to take photos of the soccer players for my editorials.." you mutter, it'd be horrible if you couldn't even deliver on the promise you made to your superiors.

"they're probably going to split the field" your fellow sports journalist, taehyun says. a small groan escapes your lips, you're annoyed, you hope this doesn't interfere with the photos you have to take, it'd be horrible if you just ended up doing the same thing all over again. "see? baton club is taking one side and the soccer team takes the main area because they need to start practicing now".

"they look so cute! i've always wanted to be apart of the soccer team!" lee sohee exclaims, and you turn towards him, a look of interest on your face. he attentively watches the boys, humming to the song that's playing. "why didn't you join them then?" you inquire, interest peaked.

sohee smiles at you, readjusting his camera and fixing his posture. "i enjoyed writing the editorial articles more" he shrugs. "wanted to try out but i missed the tryouts because eunseok hyung would have killed me if i missed anton's recital" at the words, you laugh, used to the behavior from the older boy.

"maybe next year".

"you'd fit in perfectly!" taehyun muses, and sohee brightens up, seemingly loving the words.

"really!? that's what seunghan tells me too!" he cheers at the words, looking proud of himself. "i'd look cute in that uniform though.."

you chuckle at sohee's word, finding him to be absolutely adorable. "yeah, you definitely would" you ruffle his hair, smiling at the giggle which sounds from the boy.

"i'm gonna go get a closer look at them" you say, motioning towards the soccer team. taehyun nods and watches as you get closer to the field, not super close, but close enough that your camera can capture a good view of the soccer team. you narrow your eyes, pointing your camera at the busy boys who are doing their usual routine, the viewfinder shows jisung in all his glory.

you take pictures, zooming in and out. you don't mean to put all the focus on jisung, he's just too alluring to not be the center of attention. he's such a natural, he's just so amazing, you can't not focus on him.

[click.]

and another shot, another one as jisung scores the goal. jisung's posture was perfect, his back straight, chin high as he wore an angelic smile. jisung hears the clicking of the camera, and looks to his left to see you, in the viewfinder you see jisung looking in your direction, you pause for a moment and notice a baton heading straight towards him.

"jisung watch out!" you yell, at the words, he tilts his head.

you quickly take the strap of the camera off your neck, throwing it until it landed right beside your fellow journalists, who looked as confused as jisung did. you ran as fast as you could, grabbing jisung's wrist and pulling him close to you.

the baton managed to hit the ground instead, and jisung shrieks as he loses his balance, toppling forward. he quickly grabs onto the closest thing to him.

you.

you lowered your arms to catch jisung, and you feel him hold onto the sleeves of your blazer, one of your arms on his stomach, the other on his waist. all his weight was in your arms, causing for you to lose balance too.

"shit—" you swear, falling onto your back. jisung fell on top of you, the grass tickling his skin. your back immediately hits the grass, and your head hits the ground softly, but your arms remain around jisung. jisung's hands were still on your arms, his upper body laid on top of yours, his head was buried into your shoulder, and he was sat in between your legs.

jisung takes a sharp breath, a look of worry quickly flashes in his eyes as he sees you. "holy shit y/n are you okay!?" jisung asks, pulling away from your prior position and you sit up, opening your eyes to meet his worried ones. jisung kneels, leaning closer to you as he cups your cheeks with his hands. "did you get hurt? is your head okay!?" he asks, or yells, turning your head to inspect for any signs of wounds. you just stare at him, his bangs that messily lay against his forehead, his eyes that glimmered under the sunlight, and his pink lips that you totally just want to lean over and touch with your own.

"yeah.." you whisper, your cheeks squished from the force of jisung's hands.

jisung stops turning your head and sighs. "are you sure?" he asks, still holding your face. you nod, placing one of your hands on jisung's, his are soft, yours are rough, you note. you move his hand and smile. "i'm alright don't worry" you respond, still holding jisung's hand. jisung pursues his lips, and he extends his hand out, pulling you up from the ground. you let go of his hand, dusting off your pants.

"jesus y/n" taehyun's voice sounds from behind you, and you finally glance away from jisung, eyes focused on your friend. "are you okay? your not injured are you?"

"i'm fine.." you mumble again, blinking as taehyun suddenly hands you your camera. ah, he'd picked it up for you. you take it, inspecting it to make sure it's not broken.

"is the camera okay?" jisung inquires, looking over your shoulder to stare at it.

luckily, it wasn't damaged because it had fallen on the soft grass. "it's still working" you respond, and the two boys beside you let out a sigh of relief, with taehyun placing a hand on his chest.

"jisung! come back here!" his coach quickly yells, jisung looks to you, then back to his teammates. "thanks, i owe you" he says before running back towards his group, fetching the soccer ball he'd left on the ground prior.

"wow your like a hero!" sohee exclaims, shaking your shoulder with a smile. you just let out a nervous laugh, scratching your arm. you give one last glance at jisung before you feel your face heat up excessively, so you quickly turn away, putting your camera back around your neck.

"we should go back in now" you say, you don't say any more words as you quickly make your way towards the doors. your friends blink, exchanging glances in confusion, but they quickly follow you back inside.

"y/n! wait up!"

jisung watches you three leave, feeling his heart racing against his chest.

what the hell just happened? he asks himself.

"jisung are you okay!?" a very familiar voice shrieks. jisung turns to meet his fellow teammate jooyeon, looking concerned as ever.

"i'm alright, thanks for asking" he answers, gaze lowering down to his nails, which he quickly starts picking.

"are you sure? you looked like you hit your head pretty hard" the younger boy, as always, just wants to make sure jisung isn't lying, he's genuine like that. he pokes jisung's forehead, as if he was inspecting him.

"seriously, i'm fine" jisung lowers his hand, giving him his default 'i'm okay' smile. "y/n cushioned the blow anyway.."

"you were so close to him!" jisung startles as keum donghyun comes out of nowhere. "how did it feel? was it like a dream come true?"

"i—" jisung is speechless, he closes his mouth and blinks a good seven times before even actually assessing the question.

how did it feel?

jisung doesn't know how to express it. he didn't want to think about it in that way because you'd just done such a good deed, you saved him from flying metal going straight towards his head, he shouldn't have been thinking about the lack of distance between you two, he shouldn't have been staring at your lips, and he shouldn't have been thinking about kissing you.

his face must be so unbearably red right now.

"don't ask that! it was just very abrupt.. also, i can't think of him like that! he saved me from a flying baton, i'm just grateful for him".

jooyeon hums in agreement, slapping donghyun's shoulder for him ever asking such a thing. "that's right, you should probably get him a token of appreciation or something".

jisung blinks, trying to imagine what he should ever gift you. he truly has no idea, he's not sure if he should go over and beyond, or just give you a little gift as to not intimidate you. "i can't really think of anything, i don't want to overwhelm him or something, he just wanted to do a nice thing.."

"i'm sure he'll be appreciative of anything!"

at the words, jisung just sighs, smiling.

what a hero, l/n y/n— you really are something, he thinks.

"yeah— i'll think about it".

"good! back to practice now!"

jisung doesn't think he will ever fully be able to focus on practice, though.

"YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'VE BEEN RAN OVER BY A TRAIN" the words from the older boy, yang jeongin, snap you out of your polaroid staring daze. you flinch just the slightest, eyes peeling away from the scattering pictures which litter your desk. you rub your eyes, clearing your throat as you quickly gather all of the photos on your desk, hoping the eye bags present on your face weren't completely obvious. knowing jeongin though, they were definitely obvious. "thanks for the kind words" you respond sarcastically, a small eye roll accompanying your words. the older boy snickers, situating himself beside you, a teasing smile on his face. he props his legs up, blinking at you. "seriously though, you look like you haven't slept in years, are you alright?"

"i'm as alright as someone looking to pursue journalism can be.." you mutter back, placing the photos which were previously on your desk into your backup, a small sigh escapes your lips. "all of my applications are still pending.."

"seriously? i assume you would've been accepted into any of those schools by now!"

"you know how it all goes, they get hundreds— heck, thousands of applications every day, i just have to be patient".

jeongin raises an eyebrow, then just shrugs at you, humming. "there's no need to worry, y/n, you'll get into a good school".

you chuckle at his words, he totally read your mind when it came to that. "i'm not worried about anything" you lie; "i'll be okay, i know".

but do you?

your absolutely tired the whole entire day, you tried your best to focus in your classes, but you couldn't help your head slipping down and the way you almost slipped off to dreamland whilst your teachers were asking you very much audible questions.

"did you sleep last night?" sungchan asks you in the middle of your afternoon break, poking your arm as if to wake up. "you look like a zombie.."

"i slept a few.. hours?" your tone is very much a questioning one, as if you didn't even believe your own words. "i don't know, i was too busy fighting with lin, apparently i'm not good enough at what i do to consider journalism".

paired with the lack of response to your several applications, you weren't having the best week, it was all becoming just a little too much for you.

graduation is just too far away..

"anyway! did you choose the photos you'll put in the editorial yet?"

you think, for a while. you felt as if you had stared at so many polaroids by this point, that they're probably going to start appearing in your dreams, with the lack of sleep, constant flashing of cameras and just news news news, you've really had no time to focus on other things.

"i haven't even found time to think about the editorial" you whine, a weary sigh escaping your lips as you think about how pissed off your higher up is gonna be if you almost miss the deadline once again. "is the deadline coming up?"

"well— is four days a close deadline for you?"

you gasp, loudly, almost throwing your camera across the hallway. "four days!? four days until the deadline seriously!?"

you usually aren't like this. you are usually very calm, cool, and collected, but your week has been just the definition of a shit storm, and everything just seems getting worse and worse.

"hey, it's okay!" sungchan immediately replies, hoping to reassure you. he places a hand on your shoulder, a smile coming to his face. "it's not like this is anything new, it'll all be fine, you only have to choose two pictures anyway".

you sigh, rubbing your temples. "yeah" you breath. "it'll be fine, fine" you repeat, nodding your head as you relax yourself.

the hallway is crowded, not crowded crowded, but crowded enough that you couldn't help but begin counting the heads around you.

your eyes get stuck on a familiar figure across the hall.

park jisung, smiling and laughing with his friends. you get lost in a trance of admiring him, even though you can clearly hear sungchan talking to you. all your attention is immediately on him, and a small smile spreads across your face as you observe him, being himself.

there is absolutely no reason for him to be so breathtaking while just talking with his friend!

you are so distracted, and you don't mean to get stuck in this little reverie as you stare at the boy that you totally do not have a crush on.

he hasn't really left your mind, instead of just floating around in there like he'd been before that whole prior incident, now he occupies a whole subsection of your mind in recent days. you could be with your other friends, and all of a sudden your mind would wander off to jisung, or you could be in class and he just pops into your head.

you never thought you'd be one to get distracted easily, but you've clearly been proven wrong by just the alluring aura of park jisung.

you startle when jisung turns your way, making eye contact with you. he smiles upon noticing you, his eyes practically lighting up, and he waves at you. your a little taken aback, but jisung doesn't wait to see you wave back, just turning back towards his friend and continuing his previous conversation.

"what was that?"

"what was what?"

you quickly look over at sungchan, who had just witnessed that whole entire scene. he looks at you like you just grew a second head, and your face begins to burn as the realization dawns on you.

"you and park jisung!?"

your quick to try and sputter out a response, but you shake your head, face excessively heating up, it's probably red at this very moment. "there is nothing going on between us!"

"that doesn't seem like nothing!"

you realize how guilty you look right now. with your red face and constant insistence that there is absolutely nothing going on, those are traits the guiltiest of people display, and it all just makes you look even more guilty with how your face gets even more red.

(you must look like you're dying right now).

"it's just a friendly exchange!"

"not while your looking at him with hearts in your eyes!"

he was completely calling you out, and he was right. you were staring at jisung like he was an angel that had graced your presence, you stare at him like he's a saint and everyone else doesn't matter, as if he's the only person in the room. "i— i wasn't! i was just zoned out and he just waved at me to say hi!"

sungchan narrows his eyes suspiciously at you, totally not buying it. "uh huh, sure" his voice conveys disbelief. "just know, i'm onto you y/n".

you nudge him in the shoulder, seriously wanting to change the topic. "yeah yeah whatever" you cross your arms as you mutter the words, you're sure if you take one more glance at jisung, you won't be able to look away, so you just clear your throat and walk the other way, face still red as sungchan teases you the whole entire time.

maybe if you glanced back, you'd see jisung watching as you left..

JISUNG WAS REALLY HOPING HE'D BE ABLE TO catch you before school dismissed. you two haven't genuinely had an actual talk since you saved him from the flying baton heading straight towards his head. all you two have done is give smiles, waves, and mutter small greetings to each other in the hallway. he had to admit, it upset him in just the slightest, because he really did want to just have a conversation with you (of course, he isn't exactly sure he'd be able to get through a conversation with you without blushing like a madman anyway), but your schedules just kept conflicting, so even catching a glimpse of you around the campus has become difficult for him to do.

he doesn't want to waste any opportunity he has in his hands—

"y/n!"

when jisung sees you across the hall, he realizes that he shouldn't take this chance for granted. you turn around at the call of your name, smiling as you see the others making his way towards you. jisung runs a hand through his hair, hoping he isn't making anything awkward. "jisung hi, do you need something?"

you smile politely at him, a smile so beautiful it seems like it could get rid of all the problems in the world. jisung loves your smile, he could stare at it for hours, is that creepy? he hopes it's not creepy..

"oh uh—" the words he'd been planning to say somehow get caught in his throat, but he clears his throat and proceeds. "i was wondering if i could walk you home?"

you blink, puzzled by the question. why would he want to walk you home? your mind begins to wander, trying to figure out why he'd want to do such a thing.

can't you just ask y/n? stop being an idiot..

"why?"

you don't mean for your words to come out that way, and you're almost afraid that you made jisung uncomfortable with your tone of voice, but he instead just smiles, squashing any of your bad thoughts. you love jisung's smile, you think it's underrated, so little people talk about it and the fact shocks you, you could probably compliment his smile for hours—

but that sounds just a little creepy.

"i just want to accompany you—" —and this is my only excuse to be around you— "do something nice for you after you did something nice for me".

the words make you pause. he's just.. so thoughtful huh? you've never heard of someone wanting to repay you for being nice, it's actually a little strange if you think about it.

"jisung you don't have to reward me for doing something nice.."

"it'd be great to walk with you, though, you make good company".

that's it? that's really it?

you're not sure why you're surprised about that, maybe it's just the idea that he literally searched for you just to say this, he truly just wants to walk you home, he truly just wants to spend time with you.

he thinks i make good company, just the thought alone is enough to make you giggle in your head. your inner thoughts sound ridiculous, but you can't help them.

"if you don't want me to it's totally oka—"

"no no no" you immediately cut into his sentence, hoping that didn't come off as desperate as it sounded. "i'm glad you offered to walk me home, i'd love to walk with you too".

you unsuccessfully try to mutter those last few words, a sudden shyness taking over you. jisung smiles, glad, no, elated at your agreement. he doesn't know why he's that happy, but he hopes it isn't clear and evident, he'd never live it down.

after bidding a goodbye to your friends, and telling sungchan you'd make sure to choose the photos for your editorials, you dragged jisung out of the school doors, much to your and jisung's surprise, as well as the shock of a few of your classmates, he made sure to eye the both of you suspiciously.

"what interested you in photography?"

a scene like this is something jisung thought he'd never get to, being able to talk to you, one on one. just the two of you sharing a simple conversation is what he's wanted for an uncharted amount of time, even with how straightforward it is, the two of you could never really find time to converse normally.

when jisung asks the question, you almost think you heard him wrong. he genuinely wants to know? in a way, you feel like you've always been just the slightest bit boring, yeah you wanna do journalism and love taking aesthetically pleasing photos but you've never considered what you do to be a talent by any means.

you pick at your fingers, looking down at the ground instead of at jisung. "it's an interest i picked up from my mother, i've always been shocked how she could just do that, you know? i love videography and stuff like that as well, i love how one can capture so much with just a single camera".

your words intrigue jisung, and he listened the whole entire way, not interrupting you once. he found a smile crossing his face at the clear display of passion for your creative work, he loves the way you put it into words. god if he didn't admire you before, he surely did now.

"what about you? you're pretty much good at everything, what drew you to the adrenaline rushing excitement of soccer?"

jisung pauses, allowing himself to let out a small snicker at the question. "i don't really enjoy soccer".

you raise an eyebrow. "oh?"

jisung laughs again, your tone of voice amusing him. "don't say it like that.. it's not that i hate it, i'm just not as into it like everyone expects me to be, i got onto the school team and i've been stuck there ever since" there isn't exactly distaste in jisung's tone, he just states it casually, like how it is. his voice is just simple, mundane, he doesn't dislike soccer, it's just not what he's looking forward to do.

you love his honesty.

"i'm into other things in a much more passionate sense, like dance, soccer is just a hobby" he finally finishes, pulling his sleeves over his arms as he avoids eye contact with you.

"so no professional soccer player park jisung?"

"i think i'll leave it to the other guy to be known for that".

you chuckle at his words, okay, he's funny (you knew that already, you just had to reiterate it in your head). god how can a guy be so perfect? you get why people are so into jisung, he's charming even without trying. you feel like the luckiest guy on earth knowing he asked to walk you home.

"y/n, i'm a very.." jisung pauses, as if trying to articulate the words he was about to say. "i really admire you a lot".

you almost lose it.

park jisung, beautiful, talented, hardworking park jisung admires you? he is an admirer of yours? you don't even know what to say, you try your best to sputter out a response but your brain is practically malfunctioning. your face goes red, and you go silent for a few minutes.

"i don't get it" is what you say, and jisung just cocks his head towards the side, observing you. "what's so admirable about me?"

"do you want a list?"

oh i'd love that. "i don't think you should waste your time".

"i wouldn't be wasting my time" jisung smiles, his gaze focused on you and only you, there's a way he's looking at you that keeps you still, unable to look away from him. "i never get the chance to tell you, i'd love to talk about everything i admire about you".

when did jisung get so bold? he'll never know where this random confidence came from, but he has an opportunity, he can't let it go to waste. he has to bring it up to you.

"what i do is nothing incredible—"

"i would disagree".

you should be angry that jisung interrupted you, but you found yourself smiling at his words. he's so generous, he doesn't have to tell you this, he doesn't have to compliment you like this, but he's doing it on his own accord, he wants to.

"okay then.. is it a good time to tell you that i also feel the same?"

jisung's ears go red, so red that it looks like smoke is gonna start pouring out of them. he is shocked, absolutely speechless. you admire him? does that mean he's gotten it all wrong these past few years? does that mean you return his feelings as well—

wait what?

"oh really?"

the prior confidence jisung had when telling you about his admiration has now all fizzled away, his voice almost cracks as he tries to register your words, and thank god it doesn't.

"it's kind of like what you said, you're amazing, a very admirable person, i know you don't really think of yourself like that but i do, and it's nice to be able to tell you up front".

jisung remains silent, but you don't mind, you just give him a smile and continue walking forward, allowing for him to catch up to you.

"is that actually true?"

"why would i lie to you?" you turn around, your whole body facing him. you begin walking backwards and wait for jisung's reply to your question. "don't give me that look".

jisung frowns, a playful one, he sends you a cute little glare that makes you giggle. he's absolutely adorable, you think in your head, he's the cutest person ever right now.

"you admire me?"

"yep".

"more than i admire you?"

"definitely, and don't even try to argue with me".

jisung opens his mouth to do exactly that, but you stop, turning around as you make it to the front of your house. "okay well, thank you for walking me home, ji".

jisung raises an eyebrow, noting down the nickname in his head. it's a common nickname, but he loves the way it sounds coming from you, he loves that you didn't just drop his full name.

"it's no problem.."

"i—"

you're cut off by the sound of the door opening, and your met with the face of your mother, whose face immediately brightens at the sight of you. you smile at her, and jisung just kinda stands there awkwardly.

"hi honey" she wraps her arms around you, and you let her, leaning your head onto her shoulder. "i thought you were staying late today?"

you shake your head. "not today, it's friday remember?"

"ohhh, yeah".

jisung glances down at the ground, playing with his feet. he doesn't know what to say, he doesn't want to interrupt the conversation you're having with your mother—

but he doesn't have to say anything, because your mother pipes up.

"oh! and who might this be?" she narrows her eyes at jisung, cogs in her brain seem to turn but then she snaps his fingers and gasps, seemingly getting it. "oh my god! park jisung?"

jisung smiles, a little laugh escaping his lips. "that is me".

"holy, you've changed so much? the last time i saw you you were barely up to my knees!"

at the sound of your mothers words, you give jisung a teasing stare, one which he quickly turns away from. "you and y/n are finally friends? i was wondering when it'd happen.."

your face goes bright red at the words, and an awkward chuckle escapes your lips. "seems he was too, he always talked about it—"

"haha! what!? that's hilarious mom!" you quickly cut in, not wanting her to talk about your former ramblings about park jisung, park jisung who was right beside you. "yeah okay, jisung i'll see you monday?"

jisung nods, a little too desperately for his liking, luckily you don't notice. "yeah, monday, have a good weekend, y/n".

you smile, blood rushing through your cheeks. "be safe".

he gives a small wave and turns around, beginning the walk back towards his home.

"he's such a nice kid, you sure you're just friends?"

your jaw pretty much drops, and you give your mother a look you don't think you've ever shared with her before. "yes! just friends!"

"hmm, sure".

"WHO ARE THOSE FOR?" CHENLE asks as he immediately notices the goodies in jisung's hands. he raises an eyebrow suspiciously at his best friend, examining the bouquet of flowers and box jisung held. jisung ignores him for a couple of minutes, placing the box in his locker and closing it behind him. "for someone" he just replies, hoping he could just remain vague instead of telling chenle about his true plans. the older narrows his eyes, clearly curious about this 'someone'. he flicks jisung in the forehead, resulting in a yelp from the other, who glares. "ow! what was that for?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows and rubbing his forehead, a frown now coming to his face.

"what you're hiding stuff from me now?" chenle rolls his eyes at jisung's frown. "who are those flowers for? you got a boyfriend or something?"

chenle was right in assuming it was a boy that was making him go crazy, but you aren't his boyfriend (not yet at least, he's trying, really). he doesn't want to exactly divulge his plans to his nosy best friend yet, just because he'd go around telling everybody he could about what jisung was doing, he didn't want anything to be spoiled.

"they're for.. y/n".

jisung winces the moment he says those words, because chenle goes absolutely crazy.

"FOR WHO!?"

jisung is quick to slap a hand over chenle's mouth, glaring at him for how loud he said those words. "could you be any more obvious?" he asks, gritting his teeth as he continues to glare at his shorter best friend, whose eyes just widen even more. "yes they're for y/n—"

"what are you two dating now?" chenle doesn't care about anything jisung has to say, he slaps his hand away and stares in interest, wanting to know more.

"no! were not dating! it's just—" jisung pauses, how is he even gonna explain this without looking super guilty? blood rushes through his cheeks as he thinks about it, about how these are your favorite flowers, about how you might react. "i wanted to get him something nice! he did a good thing and.."

and i am just so in love with him, i think i might be going insane.

"i just want to do something nice!"

"okay but are you doing something nice or are you getting ready to ask him out?"

jisung's face goes a dangerously red color, and he immediately shakes his head, denial coursing through his veins. "i'm not going to ask him out, i mean— i get why you think that but it's not what it looks like!"

chenle raises an eyebrow, staring at his totally lovestruck best friend. "it sure does seem to be what it looks like".

"chenle—"

"look, jisung, there's no need to deny that you have such an obvious crush on y/n" chenle states like it's a matter of a fact, because it is, they both know it very well, he's better at assessing jisung's feelings than jisung himself is. "he thinks your cute, you think he's cute, you two just need to ask each other out".

"um.." jisung presses his lips together, the two falling into a weird silence. he clutches the daisies in his hands, thinking about you, but he shuts off his thoughts to respond to chenle's little analysis of him.

"i just don't know where we stand, i mean we're barely even friends".

"you two are pretty much already more than friends considering he can't talk to you without looking like he's about to devour you whole".

jisung's face must be an astonishing shade of red right now. "it's not—! i don't know how to explain it okay!?"

"yeah and how are you gonna explain the flowers?" chenle points at the daisies jisung is practically squeezing to death. "other people are probably gonna get another idea".

"well i'll let them think what they want" jisung responds, his only focus is you, who cares what other people think? your his main priority. "y/n is my main focus, i don't care about what other people are saying".

chenle chuckles at his response, oh park jisung is so down bad, he's so in love with you, a kind of love chenle has never seen him have for another person. yes park jisung, love avoiding extraordinaire, is head over heels in love with a boy, chenle cannot believe it.

"okay jisung, go ahead with your wooing y/n mission or something".

at least chenle is supportive.

jisung has to go through so many interrogations to explain to your fellow photographers why he's giving you flowers, while a few of them just shrug and get it, the rest of them make sure to eye him suspiciously while he goes on with his explanation and bright red ears.

he knows most of them probably won't keep their mouths shut, and jisung knows that you told him he shouldn't get you anything for preventing him from getting any future brain damage, but jisung disagrees, he thinks you deserve gifts.

"who are those for?"

your brain doesn't register the flowers, or the connection that they have with your not-so-secret admirer, you just stare at them puzzled. "they're for you!" sohee yells from somewhere else in the room, focused on another important thing.

your eyebrows furrow, and you blink as you stare at the daisies on the table. daisies are your favorite flowers, but everyone knows that! these could be from anyone! you're no stranger to getting random gifts from people, so these could really be from anyone.

but you only have a certain person in mind..

"from who?" you ask, but you really already know who, considering the knowing look sohee sends to you.

"jisung".

of course, you say in your head, your fingers trace the packaging of the bouquet, admiring the pretty flowers before you (the pretty flowers given to you by a pretty boy), a small smile comes to your face as you think about it. you told jisung not to get you anything, but he obviously wasn't going to listen to you, he's made that very clear.

"did he tell you anything?"

sohee doesn't spare you another glance, but you can just tell he's grinning like a madman with the way he's clearly trying to hold in his laughter. "he just told me to make sure to get them to you, he was very insistent".

the teasing tone of your friends voice doesn't go unnoticed by you, and your barely able to stifle your laugh, not at sohee exactly, but at jisung's actions.

of course he didn't listen when you said for him to not get you anything, he remembered what your favorite flowers are, did he spend his weekend thinking about it? you wonder what kind of florists we must've went to.. your mind races with just jisung thoughts, and you're just so lost in them that you don't realize your zoning out.

oh park jisung, why do you have to be so sweet?

"DID YOU REALLY HAVE TO?" YOU immediately ask the moment you come across park jisung in the hallway. the boy blinks, smiling at the sight of you, his face practically brightens at the sight of you. "what do you mean?" he inquired innocently, a small tilt of his head adding to his question. you send him a glare, not a serious one, but it's still a glare. you can't even believe his audacity, for him to look at you with such beautiful eyes, make your knees feel weak without even having to do anything? park jisung is just such a crazy man, you don't know if you can stare at him any longer, you might end up passing out from heat exhaustion (the heat from your face, of course, something that's become so normal for you when around park jisung).

"don't 'what do you mean?' me, i told you not to get me anything!" you complain, lightly shoving jisung's shoulder. "seriously, i said it was fine.." you mumble those words, but jisung just smiles.

"i wanted to get you something anyway, i needed to show you my appreciation somehow".

but just your admiration is enough appreciation for me, just you being around is enough, just you is enough.

your own thoughts weird you out on occasions.

"i told you not to—"

"but i wanted to, it's fine y/n, seriously, just accept my gesture".

you bite your inner cheek, he just always has to be nice, doesn't he? your cheeks flare up and you swear your face goes a shade of red you've never seen before, how does one boy even affect you like this? you don't think you've ever acted like this around any of your other admirers ever..

"ah" a small smile comes to your face. "thank you" you whisper, you're not sure why you get so shy all of a sudden.

"it's no problem" jisung responds, a smile coming to his face. he closes the door to his locker, and then leans onto it. "walk with me?"

you blink, jisung really likes walking with you, huh? is this gonna become your thing? you wouldn't really mind when you think about it.. you enjoy walking with jisung, you just enjoy any time you can spend with jisung.

"what's with you and asking to walk with me?"

"walking with you is just.. nice".

"do i ease your stresses or something?"

your tone is meant to come off as teasing, and your question is mostly unserious, you don't register how you sound like your flirting with jisung, probably because everything just feels so natural with jisung, you love how you feel around him, it's confusing to explain.

"i guess you could say that" jisung's response snaps you out of your jisung focused thoughts, thoughts which are difficult to not get stuck in considering park jisung is constantly occupying your mind these days. "anyway, can you walk with me?"

you pause, tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek. you have class in twenty minutes, and you don't really want to walk back all the way with only five minutes left to make it to class. "i don't know.. chen might kill me".

"please?"

that catches you off guard, you seemingly forget how to think for a second. jisung really wants to walk with you so bad, he's reverting to that easily convincing voice of his? you'd be an idiot to say no, you'd be an idiot to deny anything given to you by park jisung, you sigh in your head.

"okay, fine".

a smile of victory places itself on jisung's face, and he takes your hand, to your own surprise, as the two of you begin making your way down the hall. you wanna bring it up, but you don't want him to let go of you, so you don't. your face goes a bright shade of red, jisung doesn't seem to mind, or maybe he's always wanted to hold your hand, you aren't sure.

you focus way too much on it, on the way it feels, how jisung's soft hands contrast your rough ones, how warm his hands are, you don't want to let go, you don't want him to let go. god, you feel like such a loser, freaking out over a boy holding your hand.

but it's not just a boy, it's park jisung, park jisung makes you feel things you thought you'd never feel before..

"why do you seem so worried?" jisung chuckles, his hand holding yours. he nudges your shoulder lightly, raising an eyebrow.

"because, i don't wanna be late".

jisung snickers, not making fun of you, though, he hopes you don't think that. "have you never skipped a class before?"

your eyes widen as large as saucers, model student park jisung has skipped classes? a small chuckle escaped your lips. "no, i could never bring myself to, it always made me feel strange.."

now it's jisung's turn to look surprised, you laugh again, why does he assume you skip classes? or have even attempted to skip? you wonder what goes through his mind. "are you serious? you've never tried to skip before?"

you scoff, pinching his arm. "i tried to once in the sixth grade because of a dare from friends, but i literally couldn't do it, they called me a wimp for the rest of the year".

"aww sad".

"don't give me your fake pity, also— you've skipped class before!?"

jisung chuckles at your surprise, giving a small smile. "it was a few times as a sophomore, some classes are just so boring i can't resist".

"wow, model student park jisung skips his classes? i cannot believe the information that has been bestowed upon me".

the words, paired with your sarcastic tone made jisung let out yet another snicker, he hopes he's not overdoing it in your eyes, you're genuinely just a very funny person. "oh no! don't use this secret to tarnish my pristine reputation!"

"you're such an idiot".

a cute idiot.

"be quiet, you still love me" jisung rebuts, adding a small nudge to your shoulder along with his words.

it's weird to say, but you like this. even with your totally non-romantic feelings for jisung, you find this nice. is this what dating him would be like? you get to hold hands and joke around in the halls without a care in the world? you think you'd enjoy that, you'd enjoy dating park jisung.

wait what?

you snap out of your thoughts when jisung stops, so you stop too. he lets go of your hand, and you resist the urge to frown, because you don't want to come off as desperate. (but you are desperate, you're so desperate, having park jisung hold your hand was so nice, you want him to hold it again).

"this is my stop, thank you for my walking with me".

the words are simple, basic, but you find your face heating up at them anyway. you clear your throat, not wanting to stay silent any longer. "it was no problem, i couldn't disagree anyway".

jisung laughs, he is so pretty, so pretty without even having to do anything significant. "of course you couldn't" he looks down at his feet. "anyway! have a good day y/n, don't be late to your next class!"

you blink as you watch jisung walk into the auditorium for his next class, you watch as he walks away, standing there for what seems like forever. how could a guy, just a guy affect you so much? what is it with park jisung and making you stop in your tracks? he's mesmerizing, just so easily draws you in.

your eyes widen as you realize the time, you're going to be late for your next class, mr. chen is going to kill you!

and as you totally sprint down the hallway to get to your next class, your mind is racing with thoughts of park jisung the entire time.

"AM I NOT YOUR BEST FRIEND?" YOU CAN practically hear the pout in sungchan's voice as he said those words. you place the extra polaroids on your desk, then glance up at your friend, who stares at you with an expression of defeat on his face. you raise an eyebrow, puzzled at what the actual hell he's talking about, he's always just bringing stuff up so randomly, you can't even keep up with what he's referring to now. sungchan just frowns, letting out a groan of frustration as plops down beside you, a small huff adding to his words. you chuckle at the way he decides to present himself, and he groans once again, very frustrated. "where is this coming from?"

"why didn't you tell me about you and jisung".

you pause, an expression of surprise comes to your face, your face which heats up astonishingly quickly. "me and jisung? me and jisung what? we aren't—"

"y/n there's no point in denying it, everyone already knows".

"everyone already knows what?"

"that you and jisung have a thing, it's fine if you don't wanna tell everyone but excluding me? your best friend in the whole entire world from the news?"

"jisung and i aren't dating!" you say immediately, clasping your hands together as you try to calm your rapidly beating heart. why do people even think that? yeah you like park jisung but how did people even reach the conclusion that you were dating? you're not even sure if jisung returns your feelings. "i don't even know where people got that idea.."

"so your constant yearning stares and pitched up giggles are all not apart of that?"

"i don't—" you are definitely showcasing all guilty characteristics, your red face, your shrill voice, and your very obvious lying, sungchan sees right through you, anyone would be able to. "yearning stares are stupid i don't do that!"

"yeah, sure y/n" sungchan sighs, and you groan, screaming into your pillow. "i'm not trying to be mean or anything, but it's disgustingly obvious that you're into jisung, and i mean in a cringy way".

you gasp in offense, turning away from your best friend. you want to remain stubborn, but you can't, of course you can't, how can you even deny your feelings for jisung anymore if other people can now tell that you like him? your face heats up in embarrassment, and you cover your face with your hands. "is it really that obvious?" you mutter, hoping the answer isn't what you think it is.

"yeah, very, i wouldn't even be surprised if the two of you were actually dating and this was a little trick of yours".

sungchan points at you, an accusatory look in his eyes, but he immediately lets it go, because he knows you, and he can tell that you are telling the truth. you don't even have the courage to look at him, still covering your face with your hands. "have you not told jisung how you feel yet?"

your silence tells sungchan everything he needs to know, and the look he gives you is absolutely criminal.

"YOU HAVEN'T!?"

"i haven't found any time too!"

"how much time have you been spending around jisung these days!? you haven't even tried to bring it up to him!"

you let yourself fall to the side, half your body hanging off your bed. "i don't know how to" you whine, mind immediately rushing to thoughts of park jisung, thoughts you probably shouldn't be having. "it's awkward!"

"well i'm sure jisung feels the same with the way he always has to resist the urge to kiss you in the hallway".

"with the way he WHAT!?"

the words are enough to make you rise from your formerly fallen state, a look of astonishment on your face. did jisung really return your feelings? or was sungchan just trying to start something that would end up absolute humiliation?

"y/n, not trying to be rude or anything, but it's so obvious that jisung wants to date you, he doesn't even have to say it for everyone to know!"

you feel like you just discovered the secrets of the universe with those words, park jisung likes you? like likes you likes you? once the realization dawns on you, you gasp loudly.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME!? OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE I WAS SUCH AN IDIOT UGH!"

sungchan watches you freak out, he truly can't believe that he had to tell you for all of it to finally set in.

it's actually pretty funny, and he snickers as he watches you go absolutely ballistic.

"HAVE YOU SEEN Y/N?" JISUNG ASKS the first recognizable person he sees in the hallway. he hasn't seen any seniors anywhere for a while, but that's because the days keep getting warmer, meaning graduation keeps getting closer, most of the seniors only take two classes and then go on to do their extracurriculars, so they don't really have to spend the whole entire day at school, but it's weird today because he usually always sees you, even when he isn't purposefully looking for you (which has become a common thing for him to do, he's just loves the time he can spend with you). he hopes you aren't absent, because today is friday, and if he doesn't tell you his important news now he's going have to wait an extra two days.

"y/n? uh..." the unfamiliar boy pauses for a moment, as if thinking, and jisung is hoping that it isn't the worst, because he really needs you to be here today. "well i'm not sure where he is actually! probably with his other photographers".

"but he's here right?" jisung doesn't care if he comes off as desperate, his only focus is you, you are his main priority, he doesn't care about the impression he's making on others, he can truly only think about you at the moment.

"yeah! i'm just not sure where exactly!"

"okay thank you!"

the guy gives him a strange look, a mix of teasing and giddy, but jisung walks off too fast to see it, he's set on finding you. he doesn't exactly know where he's supposed to go, he's just hoping to somehow spot you and be able to get you alone.

"what are you rushing for?" chenle comes out of nowhere, noticing jisung's urgency and the way he's clearly focused on something specific strikes him as odd, but he already has an idea of what's making jisung so fidgety. "you're gonna confess your love to y/n or something?"

"yes, actually i am chenle, it'd be great if i could find him, though".

maybe it's jisung's surprising honesty, or the way his main priority is you. chenle finds it amusing how quick the switch flipped, but it's also kind of cute. the usual pessimist, mr 'i don't really care about love' park jisung is down bad for a boy, it's adorable. "have you tried the photography room?"

"where do you think i'm heading?"

chenle chuckles at jisung's attitude, simply smiling and pulling his cheek. "alright then! don't forget to tell me how it goes!"

jisung doesn't spare chenle another glance, just turns back around and focuses on the task at hand, finding you and telling you how he feels.

jisung wonders how you'll react, based on what he's seen, it's not completely guaranteed that you'll reject him, it's probably more likely that you return his feelings rather than don't. does that make him horrible? thinking because you've exhibited the traits of someone who has a crush that you have a crush on him?

maybe you don't like him and he's letting it all get to his head, it all just seems too good to be true.

jisung doesn't even have to go all the way to the photography room, because he bumps right into you whilst on his way there, and a small yelp escapes your lips. "oh my god.. sorry!"

jisung cannot contain his excitement, and his nervousness. there is absolutely nothing to be nervous about, this is y/n. kind, understanding, charming y/n, it's not like he's going to scream at you for telling him you like him. it’ll all be fine.

"it's alright" you whisper, shaking your head for a moment. "i was looking for you" you immediately say, not allowing for jisung to speak before you.

jisung's eyes widen. you were looking for him? it makes his brain go haywire, figurative cogs in his head turning. "that's ironic, i was looking for you too".

jisung swears he can see the red coloring on your cheeks, but he doesn't say anything about it.

"i have to tell you something".

the two of you say that sentence in unison, the same amount of anxiety coursing through your veins, the same red hue on your cheeks, the same look of surprise in your eyes. "you can go first" you whisper, picking at your fingers, you aren't exactly sure if you want to hear what he's about to say.

"are you sure? it seems you have something more important to say.."

"it's fine! really, i can just say it after yo—"

"i'm in love with you".

the words strike you like a punch to the gut, a slap to the face. your stomach drops, your face is burning horribly, and your legs feel like they're about to give in. you cannot believe it, you hope you don't pass out, you hope you don't just die right here, that'd be so embarrassing.

park jisung is in love with you. beautiful, talented, model student park jisung who you've never truly known how you felt about is in love with you. you are so happy, giddy, and it disgusts you, but the disgust is quickly replaced by the feeling of joyousness. park jisung is in love with you, he feels the same way.

"jisung, i'm—"

"it's okay if you don't return my feelings i just wanted to tell you!" is that really what he thinks? that you don't love him back? he must be crazy, you've only ever exhibited reciprocal feelings. "i'll be off now!"

"no! don't go!" you grab jisung's wrist before he can walk away. smart move y/n, you're acting so natural right now. "i just, i return your feelings! i just don't know how to explain it, also my hands are very sweaty right now and i feel gross.."

you let go of jisung's wrist and feel your face get unbearably hotter. it's embarrassing, you feel so embarrassed, but it's park jisung, and jisung just stares at you lovingly. you're so cute, how did it take him this long to tell you how he felt?

"you're so cute".

jisung doesn’t even realize he says the words until you give him that look, and your red face just makes him giggle more. "this isn't— that is not fair! i was supposed to confess first!"

"you're the one who told me to go first!"

"i didn't know you were going to tell me you liked me! i prepared a whole sentence for you and everything!"

you whine, covering your red face with your hands. jisung removes your hands from your face, and a small smile graces his pretty features. he's absolutely gorgeous, he has such a pretty smile, you have the sudden urge to tell him about it. "your smile is beautiful".

now it's jisung's turn to become the red faced lovesick fool. "ah, really?" he responds, voice shaky, hands even more shaky, but they're so soft, your mind always reminds you to note that.

you hum in agreement. "it's very pretty, i can't believe more people don't talk about it".

"well you can talk about it, aren't we technically dating now?"

the question makes you pause. you feel like your about to go insane, you're dating park jisung? park jisung is your boyfriend? this is like a dream come true, a dream you thought would stay a dream and only a dream. "dating? dating! yeah yeah!"

your natural act is not natural at all, you are very nervous, so nervous you feel like your about to collapse onto the floor. "there's no need to be so nervous.."

you groan. "says you!"

"alright y/n" jisung lets go of your hands, much to your dismay, because you frown. he takes note, and reaches over to grab your own once again, intertwining your fingers. "we’re dating, you don't have to go red faced every time i compliment you now".

"but it's you, how do i not?"

jisung sighs, leaning forward and pressing a small peck on your lips. oh he is such a stupid little—

"why would you do that!?"

"i'm sorry!" jisung giggles, he was definitely not sorry. "it was an instinct, i had to!"

"you— ugh!"

park jisung can't just not make you nervous, he's such a crazy man.

one that you love, of course.

"I THINK I LIKE THIS ONE THE MOST.." JISUNG states, admiring the polaroid photos which litter the desk. you hum at his words, rummaging through the box on the counter, you are very much focused on finding that estranged camera taehyun had pointed for you to find. your boyfriend glances up, looking over your shoulder, silently watching as you get frustrated about this stupid camera you couldn't find. "which one?" you inquire, glancing over at him. jisung holds up the polaroid, a picture you'd taken of you and sungchan at the beach when you were nine. a pretty photo, you aren't even sure how you pulled it off. "ah, that is a pretty one" you whisper, and you smile the moment jisung smiles. his smile is so pretty, a cute stretch which is enough to make you smile, even if you feel down.

"what’s with your face?"

"searching for this old camera is pissing me off" you remark, knowing that you have to search for this is just making you even more mad, why do you have to pack the photography room right before graduation? you hate it. "who even left it in here?"

"a former student maybe?"

you close your eyes, sighing. "i need this to be over so much more quickly" you complain, and jisung just laughs at your misery.

"we graduate in a week, y/n, just be patient" the younger pokes your cheek, then he cups your face, trying to make your frown disappear. "an old camera is not the end of the world".

you glance down at jisung's lips, then narrow your eyes. "are you trying to seduce me?" you question, raising an eyebrow.

"no?" jisung responds, adding a small tilt of his head to his words. "do i sound believable?"

"not at all" you say, pushing jisung's hands away and looking back to the box in front of you so you can continue to scour for this camera you have to get for your friend. you continue to search through the box, trying to find this old dslr camera for your friend. "so don't distract me".

"i'm not!" jisung whines, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his chin onto your shoulder, watching you try to succeed at your mission of finding a camera. "you don't want to give me, your lovely, amazing boyfriend attention?"

you merely roll your eyes at jisung, he's so annoying (in a cute way), you're about to call chenle to drag him away from you, but you also don't want him to let go of you, his arms around your waist make you feel safe, loved, park jisung makes you feel so loved.

"i found it!" you shriek, victory soaring in your voice. "fucking finally".

"okay so can you give me a kiss now?" jisung asks, puckering his lips and leaning closer to you.

he's so desperate, and you are too, it's adorable, park jisung is adorable. "hmm" you pretend to think about it, an inquisitive look making it's way to your face. "nah".

"y/n! that's not fair!" jisung whines, shaking you with his arms that are still around your waist. he frowns, trying to give you his best puppy dog eyes.

you almost give in, but you push him away, taking the camera you'd been searching for. "later, babe".

"you said that this morning!"

you sigh, turning around to stare at the pouting park. the cute pout remains on his face, how can you ever resist him? you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips, ruffling his hair. "there, are you happy you big baby?"

"you could do better".

"uh huh, and you could be patient".

jisung frowns once again, but it's not a serious one, just the cute one he likes to do when he pretends to be mad at you. "don't be mad, you know i love you".

jisung does know, he knows that very well. he smiles at you, he's so in love with you, and not even in an embarrassing way, there's nothing embarrassing about this, he feels joyful, a sense of euphoria overtakes him whenever he’s with you.

"i know, i love you too".

and he isn't lying when he says that.

because he truly does.

[tangent101]

You're right.

Fortunately, of all the Gods for FCG to fixate on... he picked one of the more decent ones. And I think the Changebringer is someone who wouldn't take advantage of FCG's need to fit in.

However, there is one aspect of what Ashton did with FCG which I think is positive and decent because... he saw Laudna rip FCG apart over FCG's joy of having found someone like himself that he loves. And FCG immediately started to question himself and question what he had and say "I'll ignore it. It's not important."

And that is a lie. It's a lie that ultimately hurts FCG... and Laudna did not mean it, Laudna has been dealing with some intense trauma and grief... and it's kind of funny in that Laudna is now acting very much like FCG did and I could see him calling her out on her hypocrisy.

Except Laudna wasn't yelling at FCG for his love of FRIDA. She was yelling about how her time sucked and she perceived them having a grand old time which is ironic given all the horrible shit that kept happening to Team Wildemount that just got brushed under the rug. And the crazy thing is? No one among Team Wildemount mentioned that FCG almost attacked everyone and that only FRIDA managed to talk him down. And that he's STILL hella stressed out! (Hopefully two days of downtime from having to wait for the staff to recharge will have reduced the stress he's under.)

So, what did Ashton do? "Tell me all about your boyfriend."

He wants FCG to remember FRIDA. He wants FCG to have someone to live for, and not to be all "eyes on the prize" because he knows Laudna is just in a bad place right now. And I would not be at all surprised if we see several times moving forward for Ashton to ask for more details on FRIDA. To remind FCG of FRIDA so that FCG doesn't just "put it aside" but remains having something to live for.

Because yes. Ashton is so very tired of trying to save FCG from himself... and seeing his small friend actually be happy for once? He's overjoyed by this! He loves FCG in his own way like a big brother and he's concerned by FCG's self-destructive tendencies... as we saw during the teleport mishap when Sam deliberately brought FCG to a Killer Bot Moment even with FRIDA by his side. Ashton wants to have FCG be selfish for a change... because that is needed for FCG's mental health. It's something FCG has ignored for a long time.

So... I think it was a good thing.

Going off on a less-related tangent here as is my wont so if you're uninterested in Laudna/Imogen musings, just ignore what's under the cut.

It's like... Laudna couldn't afford the class trip to Spain. Her best friend did, but almost all of her friends left, except for Orym and Ashton and they worked in a miserable McDonalds and the fucking restaurant burned to the ground because one of the employees had a beef with the owner and tried to kill everyone.

And even during that horrible time... Laudna still had some moments of peace and joy and connecting with people. She made friends with Prism (which kind of didn't go well when Prism promptly said Orym was her bestie and didn't the two of them basically beat up that pyro Bor'Dor together?) and had some truly enjoyable moments with Deni$e who insists on that weird symbol in her name. But the memory of Bor'Dor throwing boiling hot grease at everyone and setting things on fire... that's what she remembers most of all.

Meanwhile Imogen and everyone missed their flight and had to wait for a couple of days in the airport until things got figured out and she had no cellphone reception and she just wanted to go home and then they got to Spain! It was wonderful! It was fantastic! And then she got food poisoning and was in the fucking hospital after one day of fun where she got Laudna this really nice corset and some pretty gloves and everyone else had romantic adventures while she was stuck in the hospital with an IV to keep her hydrated.

And Imogen isn't going to tell Laudna that "I was in the hospital the whole time" because Laudna went through hell and during that same time her own hell was just wishing desperately she was home with Laudna and then realizing "I'm in love with her!"

The first moment she got alone with her? She asks for a kiss. And Laudna realizes she is loved. But she already tore into FCG and he's doubting what he has with FRIDA who is going off to college so they're not going to get to talk much and... best to just put it aside. And it's not what Laudna intended. She just had a really sucky time, as did Imogen... and FCG doesn't want to admit that he suffered a really bad panic attack and only barely avoided throwing fists at his friends because FRIDA kissed him and had him do breathing exercises to calm down and yet FCG is still just... stressed and missing FRIDA something fierce.

I'm so happy about Imogen and Laudna but I can't help but feel sad about FCG, and I think I've worked out why.

When we compare what Imogen and Laudna have with FCG and FRIDA, it makes it clear the difference between a long and true love built on friendship and a romance built on infatuation. These two automatons finally met someone they had a bunch in common with and immediately fell in love, Romeo and Juliet style. As in stupid love. Romeo and Juliet were young, dumb and full of daggers. FCG only has a few years of memories and has been blown away by this more put-together version of themself. Suddenly, they were ready to attach all their self worth to this person, to the point where just a bit of attention from FRIDA is enough to distract FCG from their impending breakdown.

And now FRIDA is gone, and they know they have a job to do and need to be fine. They can't afford to let themselves feel abandoned or lonely. They try to downplay their own feelings, try to minimise their pain. That's what they need to do to be useful. Suddenly they are back in the company of the people they care about most in the world, but it's a little colder. Nobody cares about FCG the way FRIDA does. Except, maybe...

Ashton and FCG FINALLY have a one-on-one chat with each other, but while most people seem to be celebrating them supporting each other and being happy for each other, I'm looking at it like

Because Ashton is having a manic episode. I've been there. They are there calling themself worthless, calling themself ineffective. They are trashing themself and swearing to turn over a new leaf, be useful and heroic. They are on a mission, moving so quickly and purposefully that everyone around them seems to be slowing down. Suddenly they are frustrated and disgusted by the same self destructive behaviour that has always been woven into their character. And hating it in themself, they start to hate it reflected in others. Especially FCG, who deserves better, and they've always thought so. But success! FCG is in a loving relationship now. It's different from their weird, co-dependent friendship. Because of course it is. Now surely FCG has a reason to live. And Ashton can finally relax and stop trying to save FCG. They can stop focusing on themselves and focus on the goal. After all, they both feel better now, right?

Right.

FCG, on the other hand, is hearing Ashton go off and feeling happy for them! Because FCG is just as brain broke as Ashton. FCG thinks it's cool and normal to throw yourself into a new lifestyle because you don't like or trust yourself. They just committed themself to the worship of a goddess they barely know! And also the Changebringer!

"I am so tired of saving you from yourself."

What a thing to say to FCG, who is constantly trying to save everyone else. Ashton doesn't mean it in a bad way, they are just not seeing the full picture. They think FCG's slef destructive problems are kinda solved now. FCG has a boyfriend after all.

To be clear, FCG isn't offended either. They would be tired of saving themself too. They are already pretty convinced of their own lack of value, beyond their utility to others. In the future, I think they'll hesitate to tell Ashton when they're not doing well. Because Ashton was so happy when he thought he didn't need to save FCG any more.

They're still close to snapping. They will probably snap soon. We will just need to wait and see what happens when they do.

But what do I know, it's fuckin Sam Riegel, he will probably have FCG double down and become a full blown Gods squad religious nut and still make us cry somehow.

[spideyhexx]

filthy; s. r.

pairing; steve rogers x female!reader

a/n: this is dedicated to @vineridden💕 mean/evil steve is superior

masterlist reblogs/comments/feedback is appreciated!

summary; you intentionally piss steve off, but at least you get what you want!

NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI PLEASE!!!

WARNINGS: mean!steve. lots of teasing/humiliation. slapping. hair pulling. oral (female receiving). riding. crying but good crying. unprotected sex. squirting. spitting/cumplay.

word count; 2.6k

---------------------------------------------------------

You’d be lying to yourself if you said making Steve angry was an accident.

Granted, it’s pretty easy to piss him off. He wanted everything to be perfect, always. Mister “my plan is the best plan” even though the old Captain has had his fair share of mishaps.

Ever since the tension broke between you and Steve just a few weeks ago, a fiery kiss that resulted in him pounding into you against his bedroom wall, he’s been a bit more cold.

You can’t tell if he’s being rude to continue fucking with you or if he truly regrets having sex. Either way, you wanted to light his fuse. You wanted to see the deep crease in his brow and how serious his face gets.

All you did was take a turn in the dimly lit, abandoned HYDRA facility.

Albeit a left turn instead of a right, like Steve instructed you to. How were you supposed to know a group of HYDRA agents were stashed away in one of the rooms in that hallway?

Regardless, it still jeopardized the mission and cut it short, leaving the team empty handed.

To be fair, you felt a little bad. Rebelling against Steve’s orders to purposely get on his bad side was fun, but maybe you took it too far? Nobody got hurt, but also nothing was accomplished.

Usually when Steve was mad he’d shout a few angry words at someone but this time he’s completely silent.

He gives you a stern look before jumping in the passenger seat, shrugging off questions from the team.

You began to worry you did take it too far. But a light ‘ping’ sound goes off and you check your phone to see a text from the Captain himself.

Skip the debriefing. Come to my room after you wash up.

The text bubbles pop up then disappear, leaving you with those two sentences to interpret and overthink the whole way back to the compound.

You couldn’t scrub the dirt off of your body faster as you take the quickest shower of your life.

Pondering for only a moment before deciding, fuck it, you throw on your favorite lacy set, covering it with a big t shirt. As you walk down the hallway to Steve’s room, you hope to dear god he’s really as into you as you are into him.

He’s most likely still mad at you, but that’s how you got fucked in the first place. You called him a jerk and it struck him deeper than you expected. So he fucked you until the only words out of your mouth were about how perfect he was.

You knock lightly on his door and it whips open. Steve pulls you in and shuts the door with a kick.

“Would you like to explain yourself?”

He stands tall with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly. His eyes quickly look down at your bare thighs. You feel small under his stare.

“I just took the wrong turn,” you state and he scoffs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Just took the wrong turn, my ass.”

“Listen-”

“No! No, you know what?!”

Steve lets out a deep sigh before continuing,“I don’t care if it was just some wrong turn you cost us this fucking mission! Now we have to regroup and make sure we have a competent team next time, not including you.”

You stare at him wide eyed.

“Uh, no you’re not benching me,” you start but he’s standing his ground, shaking his head at you.

“Well I am. Because I’m allowed to, that’s what a Captain does right? Based on your actions honey, I think you deserve a time out.” he says.

The nickname falters you for a moment, stopping any words that were about to come out of your mouth. Steve notices, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh, I see,” he mumbles, stalking over to you and leaning closer to your face. You wonder if he could feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks.

“Was this a little ploy to get back in my bedroom? Hmm?”

His eyes bore into you, as though he was trying to read your mind. Your eyes lock onto his and you try to keep a straight face as his gaze drops to your lips.

“Tell me, honey.”

You say nothing and a slight smirk etches it way onto Steve’s face.

“Really? Quiet treatment? I’ll talk for you then. I think you fucked up the mission just to be here...with me...right now. Was my dick really that tempting? Such a desperate girl. Selfish, too really. Don’t give a fuck about anything because you got cockdrunk after one fuck. What a-”

You strike a quick slap across Steve’s face before he could finish and his head barely moves. He chuckles and you grip your hand that’s stinging slightly.

“Is that all you got? That’s your slap?”

Steve moves away from you to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” you mutter. You did slap him as hard as you could.

“It really is. You can’t fucking slap. Try it again,” he demands while still sporting his teasing smile.

You lay your hand on his cheek lightly before pulling away and slapping him as hard as you could. It is definitely a little harsher than the last, but Steve still laughs.

“That was a little better, but still shit. You want me to show you how it’s done?”

Steve cups your face in both of his hands, his thumbs drumming against your cheekbones. You nod at him eagerly.

“Ah, ah, you know I want to hear you say it, honey,” Steve teases, then leans his lips down to your ear, “tell your Captain you want him to slap you.”

You feel yourself melt into his touch already and you take a very quick moment to thank the heavens for already how good it feels to be like this with Steve.

“Captain, I want you to slap me.”

Steve moves one of his hands down your body to grip your waist. The other one rubs your cheek affectionately one more time before he draws his hand back and strikes it across your face. You whimper and his hand is back on your face, soothing the burning skin.

“You see? That’s how you hit someone.”

His hand drifts down to lightly grasp your neck. You jut your bottom lip out at him and he smiles.

“You’re a brat,” he mumbles, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and biting it.

Your breaths are heavy and before you could respond, Steve’s pressing his lips to yours. He grips your hips with both of his hands, shoving you as close to his body as possible.

You rake your nails through his hair and he bites your lip again, making you moan.

Steve pulls away breathless, “look at you, already moaning? Seriously? Fuck, you’re going to be so noisy once I get my cock in here.”

He cups your core and moans when he feels your lace underwear.

“Look who’s moaning now,” you retort and Steve winds his hand into your hair, pulling harshly.

“Get on the fucking bed,” he spits out and carelessly lets go of you. Without hesitation, you get on his bed, lying on your back.

Steve rucks up the shirt you have on and tosses it over his head.

“I really didn’t think you could possibly seem more desperate, but look at this.”

Steve trails a finger down your bra strap, then above your tits.

“Got yourself all pretty looking for me. I wasn’t wrong when I said you were cockdrunk.”

“Steve,” you whine out, your hands fisting the sheets a smidge tighter, even though he’s barely touching you.

“Steeeve,” he mocks your whine as he moves down the bed to settle between your legs. Roughly, he pulls them apart, placing each of your thighs over his shoulders.

Steve presses a quick kiss to your inner thigh before his lips are right above your core. His fingers trail the waistband of your underwear, then down the middle. The action already had you trying to buck your hips.

“None of that. Or do you want me to keep making fun of you?”

“Just...just get on with it, please,” you beg him and Steve chuckles.

“Filthy girl, can’t wait, huh?”

He presses a kiss to your clothed pussy, before you hear a tearing sound. You look down to see Steve had ripped your underwear completely off.

“Are you kidding me? You didn’t have to-”

“Aw is the little princess sad her panties were ripped,” he mocks, faking a frown. You let out a sigh and Steve pinches your thigh.

“Steve, you have to replace them.”

“Yeah, sure whatever. But it won’t matter in just a couple seconds will it? Cause my tongue will be on your cunt?”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right,” you relent.

“That’s a good girl. Finally.”

He licks a stripe up your core, smiling devilishly at the squirm of your hips. His tongue laps at your cunt, not holding back from plunging you into pleasure.

Steve groans at how wet you are and the feeling of you soaking his mouth. He’s been thinking about stuffing his face into your pussy since he first fucked you and now that he’s doing it, he’s relentless.

He attempts to keep your hips from squirming at every lick, but eventually he gives up, just wanting to enjoy how much you like his tongue.

“This good, honey? Sure fucking looks like it is,” he growls, moving his fingers up to rub your clit in small circles as his tongue dives into your opening.

You feel like he’s trying to lick every inch of you. All your moans are strings of ‘yes’ and ‘fuck’ and little whimpers as the sensitivity grows.

“Fuck, show me this is what you needed, princess. Cum on my face, come on.”

Your body stills as your orgasm rips through you, your toes curling as you scream out his name. You don’t miss how Steve’s moaning against your cunt as well, lapping up as much of your slick as he can.

Once your high has calmed down, Steve’s getting off the bed to rid himself of his clothes. He sits back against the headboard and practically pulls your body into his lap.

You take the opportunity to take your bra off yourself, not wanting him to rip that too.

“Listen to me,” he says, gripping your jaw so you could only look right at him. As he looks into your eyes, he could tell you’re already a bit dazed.

“Are you listening?”

You nod and squirm in his lap, his hard cock presses into your thigh and with each passing second, you feel more hungry for it.

“I want you to ride my cock. Do all the fucking work.”

He releases his hold on your jaw and leans back. You look at him and Steve points his head to his dick. Holding the base, you guide yourself slowly down his length.

Once you’re fully seated on him, you take a few breaths, already feeling the pleasure building from how much he fills you.

“You gonna do anything, princess? Or is it too difficult for you? You're the girl who's cockdrunk so you better show me how true that really is.”

With his words spurring a sense of motivation within you, you steady your hands on his chest, his hands loosely resting on your thighs.

Slowly, you begin to grind down on him, whimpering at how deep he is in you. A deep groan leaves Steve’s mouth and it turns you even more. As you get into the groove of feeling his cock again, you start to bounce on him.

“My girl, fucking herself on my cock. How cute, huh?”

You moan out a ‘yes’ and he chuckles, his gaze stuck on his cock as it disappears into you. Your hips are already stuttering and it’s difficult to keep a steady pace.

“Think you could go faster than that? Poor baby couldn’t slap right and now she can’t even fuck herself right?”

“Please, Steve, just help me,” you whimper at him, clutching tightly enough at his shoulders, you’re sure you’ll leave marks.

“You sure? That means you’re giving up, honey. Admitting you can’t do this-”

“I know, fuck it. I need you to fuck me, Stevie,” plead and he’s quick to push the two of you down the bed a little so he can lay down more.

He plants his feet on the bed and holds your hips. You’ll probably both have marks from each other’s fingers.

Steve gives one experimental thrust up into you and it sends you reeling against him, dropping your head to his neck. He chuckles breathlessly before fucking his cock up into you.

“So much better, right?” He asks, kissing right under your ear.

Compared to your sporadic bounces on his dick, Steve’s pounding into you. He thrusts hard and fast and his frequent chuckling at the noises you’re making gets you closer and closer to the edge.

One whimper makes him still though and he pulls your head up to look at him.

“Look at this,” Steve coos, using his thumb to wipe the stray tear that left your eye.

“Why’re you crying, honey?”

For a moment, you think he’s genuinely concerned but the way he’s trying to hide his smirk tells you otherwise.

“I’m sensitive,” you mumble and he hums.

“Your cunt’s sensitive?”

You nod at him and he begins to fuck you again, but his movements are slower, deeper.

“So what you’re telling me is...you came once from my tongue and your pussy’s already so sensitive that you’re crying? Think you could even handle cumming again?”

“Mhm, I could do it, Stevie, just so close.”

You knew you could, it’s just him that makes you extra riled up.

“Alright then, princess. You better fucking cum soon, then.”

Just as you were getting used to his slower thrusts, Steve picks up the pace again. He grabs one of your wrists and pushes it down to your cunt.

“Rub it,” he says, his lips pressing against your ear, then leaving a few sloppy kisses on your jaw. Your fingers work fast on your clit until you feel like you’re going to burst.

And you do, as Steve delivers one more thrust and you dissolve into pleasure, with him following and filling your cunt with his load. Steve pushes you off of him and laughs as he looks down at his bed.

“Made a mess, honey. You’re washing the sheets.”

He looks over to you, splayed out on his bed, breathless and still coming down from your orgasm. Steve moves back between your legs and you instinctively shut them from the oversensitivity.

“I’m just cleaning up,” he says.

Steve groans at the sight of his cum dripping out of your cunt and dips his head to lap it up into his mouth.

He moves back up to you and opens your mouth. You stick out your tongue and Steve spits his cum, mixed with yours as well, into your mouth. He closes your mouth for you and you swallow without him telling you to.

“There you go again, being a good girl.”

You watch as Steve picks up his clothes and puts them on.

“Am I really benched?”

You put on your best pout and Steve sighs.

“Yeah. Only stay out for one mission, then you can come back. That sound good, honey?”

You nod at him and he kisses you, his lips lingering against your own for a couple of moments before he’s pulling away.

“You wash the sheets or buy me new ones and I’ll buy you whatever pair of slutty panties you want.”

[ventiskies]

When he rejects you | Chongyun, Scaramouche, Albedo

a/n: hello friends!! i apologize for my somewhat disappearance TwT im currently having exam season but i couldnt help but write something for my favorite three (and yes, scara is there... and honestly, I don't know when I started simping for him either but you can now call me a future scaramouche haver >:)) so not a request, but do enjoy !! <3 (apologies if there are any errors!!)

pairing: chongyun x gn! reader, scaramouche x gn! reader, albedo x gn! reader (platonic)

Chongyun

★ Chongyun, Xingqiu and you had been best friends since you were kids. And although you were a trio, you and Chongyun had always known each other much longer.

★ If your life were a book, it would be a sweet childhood best friends growing up together genre, something that often piqued Xingqiu’s interests when he drags the two of you to Wanwen bookhouse

★ The books you had borrowed from Xingqiu about them all ended with the same thing; that they end up becoming a couple and growing up together. Reminiscing about their childhood youth when they were old.

★ You knew not to trust the books or use them as a guide, but just like the books, you had grown to fall in love with the icy-haired boy.

★ Chongyun was like a breath of fresh air. His determination in exorcising ‘evil spirits' to the point that he blindly falls for Xingqiu and your pranks were the things that you loved about him. He was filled with enthusiasm and positivity (literally).

★ You grew into enjoying his positive attitude, you couldn't imagine a day going by without Chongyun telling you and Xingqiu about a so called 'haunted' place he had found, and forcing the two of you to come with him. and even if it had ended without meeting a single spirit, he would still be in high spirits.

★ you loved it, seeing the rush of thrill he feels whenever he senses a spirit nearby, hoping the spirit was able to withstand his excessive yang energy. the repeating days without one successful exorcism, only to end up getting treated to a meal by Xingqiu, and the parting that always ends with a promise to see each other the day after. Chongyun speaks his emotions, and you were in love with that.

★ and him, just in general.

★ And one day, you had decided to tell him just that

★ You were both on the hunt for Jueyun chilies for Xiangling, a small commission that you had decided to take on while waiting for Xingqiu to finish his work at the guild. The sun had set, and you had returned from Qingce village with a bucket full of the chilies and had decided to rest on top of the mountain where you had both Waypointed to just to admire the sunset.

★ In the heat of the moment, you had spoken.

“I like you, Chongyun,” you had said, looking at him with a smile.

★ You would have accepted a silence. You had expected it to be like the books; he would gently laugh and look at you, admitting that he had been waiting for you to say the exact words, lean in to kiss you. It would be awkward at first, but it’ll also be something to look back to in the future when kissing becomes something you do every day. You’d return back to Liyue Harbor hand in hand, and be able to tell Xingqiu and Xiangling that he was your boyfriend now, and admit to the former that maybe his books were right.

★ But instead, you were met with Chongyun’s wide eyes staring at you. His cheeks flushed red with what you had tried hard to hope was shyness, but had appealed more like panic. He had stood up and cleared his throat

“We- we should get back,” he says, too quickly for someone as calm as he is. And you knew it was a wrong step, “I’m-,” he clears his throat, “I’m going to go ahead first. I'm sorry,”

★ You didn’t know if he was apologizing for leaving early, or for not being able to accept your feelings, but when you hadn't seen him the following day, you could only assume.

Scaramouche

★ Honestly, you had it coming for you.

★ Scaramouche is someone whose life is their job. There was nothing that could distract him from working for the Tsaritsa

★ You had (been self-entitled) as his best friend. And honestly, if Scaramouche knew of it, he doesn't blame you. Everyone in the Fatui and who worked under the Fatui knew how close you were. Which was odd because, for one, you were absolutely nothing like him. Although you weren't exactly liked by everyone, you weren't loathed by everyone like the sixth harbinger was.

★ Scaramouche was feared by anyone who hears his name or walks a foot away from him, while you carried a calmer aura. Without glancing, Scaramouche could bring his subordinates trembling, while they would greet you when you pass by them.

★ You were polar opposites, and yet, everyone has seen the two of you together so much that when he wasn't with you or the other way around, people would assume you were on a solo mission or just leaving the other’s quarters

★ Of course, being his best friend, you weren’t spared of his usual harsh words. As a matter of fact, you probably had it much worse than anyone else. It had almost seemed as if every time he spoke, he spoke like he was trying to get rid of you.

★ But if that really were the case, then he hasn’t been trying his best. You had stayed with him since you had become an ally to the Fatui, and ever since then had stayed by his side. When others shake in fear, you shake your head with a laugh and a retort.

★ It had even come as a surprise to you when you had realized you had fallen for the harbinger. You would think that spending time with such a foul-mouthed person who would murder someone in the blink of an eye with no hesitation would make you dislike him. But that didn’t happen.

★ In fact, it was quite the opposite. You had fallen in love with him.

★ It wasn’t obvious to anyone, and even you had to take the time to squint to look for it. But Scaramouche did care for you in his own way. Whether it be toning down the harsh words when he sees your mood dampen after a mission, or beating the shit out of a person who had attacked you ruthlessly, not stopping even after his hands were covered in crimson liquid and the person almost certainly died. Even if he calls you a hindrance afterward for dirtying his hands, he definitely thought of you the same as you thought of him.

★ A friend.

★ Or, you had hoped, something more.

★ It was a mistake to take his slight kindness as a sign of him liking you, it truly was.

★ During your journey to Inazuma for a mission, you had decided to confess to him out of the blue. You knew he was someone who could predict the outcome of something even before you said anything, so a slow confession when the sun was setting in a field of flowers would just be a waste of time. if there was something you learned, it's to cut to the chase with him.

“Hey Scara,” you had said quietly. He had replied with a low hum, not turning back to look at you, “I like you.”

★ Without a second thought, Scaramouche had taken you by surprise as well.

★ He had not stopped in his tracks, instead, his shoulders shook in laugher. His laugh wasn't the same laugh you hear whenever you make a stupid mishap or get slightly injured during a simple mission- no, those laughs were warmer. Although laced with unkindness, they were more familiar.

★ This one was condescending. As if you were a new recruit again, having to work under him. As if all those years as friends had just gone down the drain.

“Stupid. What a fool of me to assume you were different.” he says, voice clear as a bell in the night, “don’t be an inconvenience. I don't have time for people like you.”

Albedo

★ Ever since working under Albedo with Sucrose, your life had been nothing but full of wonder. Although some were dangerous, Albedo and you bonded easily as if you had worked together in a past life.

★ Albedo was a genius. He was someone you looked up to, and sometime during your investigations, he had become a friend. You didn't know when it started. When it had gone from two alchemists staying the night in Dragonspine to observe the different stages of new plant growth, to- with the permission of the acting grandmaster - just two people, two friends, going out to explore the seven nations.

★ Sucrose and Timaeus had stayed back in Mondstadt to finish experiments that you both had decided to put on hold for your trip, and with nothing to worry about, the two of you had gone out with nothing but the protection of each other (and your visions, of course), and a few packed meals from Good Hunter.

★ Albedo had a side that no one saw unless they spent nights camping with him in the middle of nowhere. You were one of the lucky people who were able to see that side of his during your trips around the seven.

★ The alchemist wasn't just curious about the way the world works, he had also been curious with, well, you.

★ Some nights when he couldn't go to sleep (which was often. You’d be surprised to see how messed up his sleep schedule was), he would sit in front of the fire you had both worked hard to make, and simply talk.

★ sometimes, it would be short conversations. but more than often, you find yourself talking about everything and nothing until the sun rose above the mountains, and you would have to continue your journey until one of you (usually being you,) were too tired to continue.

★ Albedo talks with passion, no matter what the topic is. He could be talking about what you were going to be having for dinner for the next night before you reach the first region in your trip, and he would already have you captivated.

★ Albedo also talks with gentleness. And this was the said side not a lot of people would be able to see from the chief alchemist. Whenever the tent was filled with comforting silence, you would be able to hear Albedo asking you questions about yourself. They weren’t your standard, what was your dream growing up? Kind of questions, but they were more specific. More… personal.

★ Is it not funny, how life works? What if a single moment had changed in the past, I and you wouldn't have met. He would question, eyes trained to the flames burning in front of him. It sounded rhetorical, but his tone was laced with wonder. He sounds as if he was expecting an answer, but he doesn't urge you for one. And every time he does, you merely hum.

★ Albedo was gentle in everything he did. Almost all the time you were with him, he had never acted brashly. He was patient, kind.

★ and that was most likely what had prompted your crush on the alchemist

★ crushing on Albedo was like looking up at the stars. he was someone who shined brightly, but you knew he was too far to reach, yet despite that, you had still attempted to.

★ you had decided to finally let it all out on him the night of your final stay before you reached your final region, which was Inazuma.

★ and that, you had realized a little too late, had been the icing on top of a really terrible cake.

"Albedo," you had stared, and the alchemist immediately turned towards you. that was something you had grown fond of. you knew Albedo was a man married to his work, so when he turns to you in the midst of it, you felt your stomach churn in delight, "I have to tell you something,"

“Hm?” he hums, setting his notepad down to give you his full attention, “what is it, y/n?”

★ You took a deep breath, and the moment you had opened your mouth to tell him, you had a sinking feeling you had made a huge mistake.

“I like you, a lot,” you muttered, “not just platonically, Albedo. I… I think you're really interesting. and if you'd like, I would love to be with you. ”

★ Albedo’s face had fallen, and although it had been the slightest, you had still noticed it. He looked at you as if the cogs were turning in his brain, and finally, he looks down

“I must apologize,” he starts, and you feel your stomach drop, “but I’m not interested in you that way, y/n. If it makes you feel better, I see you as a very dear friend,”

★ You nod, apologizing to Albedo before he offers a small smile before continuing his research

★ You both did not speak of it, but there was a very thick air of silence hangs over the two of you afterward, that didn't dissipate even after you both left the camp.

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 9 “Trapped In The Closet” [Episode List] Following the most blatant sit-com tropes you can think of, Dave decides to spy on his girlfriend, Dana, because he thinks she’s hiding something. Tim reluctantly decides to join his friend, but the two end up stuck in the girl’s closet, which will eventually turn into a gas chamber.

Trapped In The Closet

“Yeah Dana. Sure. No problem.”

Tim was working on some college tasks, but couldn’t help but to eavesdrop Dave’s conversation with his girlfriend, Dana, on the phone. He could only hear his friend’s replies, which being only the 50% of what they were talking about, it didn’t make a lot of sense. Not that he was interested: Dave was simply hanging out in his room because he had nothing better to do during that warm Summer evening, apparently, and so he simply showed up to Tim’s place with a couple of beers and a remarkable amount of procrastination powers.

Despite being relatively hot outside, Dave was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of long, grey levi jeans, kinda loose as usual. Something that Tim hated about his kink is how quickly he checked his friend’s outfit, something that he always did since Dave is now basically his “fart bud”, against all odds.

“Yeah… yeah… I love you. No… I love you more!”

Kinda funny how Dave, 24, would revert back to an awkward teenager at times whenever he and his girlfriend were on the phone. They probably even acted like that on purpose, because love is doing stupid things together after all.

“Tim. Car. Now!”

Dave hung up and turned weirdly serious, got up and walked downstairs, saying something about getting in the car.

“Wait, what?” Tim asked, questioning whether his friend was being serious or not, but he did follow him to wherever he was going.

“We don’t have much time, Tim. Dana will come back soon. She’s out with her own friends and we have… like… 15 minutes.”

The two walked outside and headed towards the girls’ house, actually only a few blocks away from Tim’s. Tim himself reluctantly followed his bro into this, knowing that, at best, it may turn into a funny mishap to tell to their other pals while being drunk and laugh about it.

“I’ll just pretend your words make any sense, like I usually do…” Tim chuckled, sarcastically, but still following his friend.

“I think she’s hiding something.” Dave explained, walking at a fast pace, Tim right behind him. “She’s been strangely elusive lately and I want to check her room for clues.”

Tim just chuckled in response. “Dave, you do realize that this is not a 90s sit-com, right? Her room? Really? What are you hoping to find out, exactly, anyway? That she’s having some kind of affair behind your back?” he asked, trying to reason with him.

“An affair? You think I’m that kind of guy?” Dave answered, looking surprisingly offended by Tim’s question.   “I just want to make sure she’s fine. She seemed worried about something and she’s like this organized haf-woman/half-machine hybrid who keeps sticky notes in her room to keep an eye on her busy life.”

“Oh…” Tim replied, rather sarcastically.   “Now that makes a lot of sense.”

“Leave your sassiness for later, dork. Can we take your car?” Dave asked.

“Why? We’re already right in front of her house…”

Dave realized that he was so worried that they did, in fact, walked for a couple of blocks and found themselves stepping in Dana’s backyard without even noticing. He just laughed a bit about it.

“Sorry. Love makes me blind.” he joked, knowing that it was a rather silly thing to say anyway.

“Not the words I would have used, but ok.” Tim answered.

“Come on, let’s get inside.” his bro said, with a smirk.  

“Alright… but please, let’s keep a low profile and no awkwa-”

But as they approached to the girl’s house, Dave awkwardly started muttering some kind of theme song that was oddly reminiscent of the Mission Impossibile’s most iconic soundtrack. This guy has a girlfriend, everyone.

“So much for keeping a low profile, Ethan Hunt…” Tim joked.

Dana’s room, following the usual   “average american house tropes” that the writer of this story grew up with in the 90s, was on the second floor. Luckily, the house was empty, so both Tim and Dave could easily climb it without fearing of someone noticing their totally legal actions.

“Look at Tim, such a rebel! Such a fast climber!” Dave whispered, noticing how good Tim was at climbing the girl’s house.

“Thanks. I learned it when I visited your mom.” he joked.

“I thought you’d prefer my dad, you know.” Dave played along, with a rather noticeable reference to Tim’s homosexuality.

“Just… just let’s get done with this.”  

After some awkward climbing, the two found themselves in front of a window leading to Dana’s room. The duo was sitting on a small portion of slanted roof, wondering how to get inside.

“Alright. I could just punch through the window and open it. But you know I don’t like violence against windows.” Dave said, somewhat joking, but really trying to come up with a way to get through this final obstacle.

“Never mind, it’s open.” Tim said, as his hand passed right through the window.   “Or, you know, I got ghost powers all of the sudden, but I doubt it.”

“You’re so funny I forgot to laugh.” Dave commented, as he got inside his girlfriend’s room, making sure no one was there, immediately followed by his sassy friend.

The room was fairly big and messy, books and magazines scattered all around the floor and the bed. Dana was a busy woman: she got a degree in economics but, given the tough times, she had troubles finding a decent job lately. Dave actually suspected that this was the reason she was being nervous about, well, everything, understandably.

“Why don’t you just ask her instead of acting like the perfect boyfriend material that you are?” Tim stated, in his usual snarky tone, noticing Dave basically rummaging through Dana’s more personal stuff.

“Just… let me do my thing ok?” he was serious again, trying to find something that could be clue, deep down knowing that all of that was quite non-sense and even ridiculous, but his stubbornness was showing.   “Wait…”

Something drew his attention. A red (therefore important, according to Dana’s code) sticky note on the nightstand. Something was written on it.

“Oh… I guess I was right…” Dave whispered, eyes glued on the note.

“Something about her job?”  

But Tim didn’t get an answer, as they heard someone coming from downstairs. They probably were so focused on their mission that didn’t even notice how someone got inside the house minutes after them. They went silent and tried to listen to the person’s footsteps.

“Yeah. I’ll keep you posted.”

They heard a muffled female voice getting closer, probably talking on her phone. A voice that was very familiar.

“Fuck! It’s Dana!” Dave whispered.

The two looked around, looking for a quick solution or a place to hide, blatantly ignoring the window they used to get inside in the first place.

“The closet!” Dave said.

Without even questioning whether this was a good idea or not, the duo sneaked inside Dana’s closet and closed themselves inside just as the girl came into her room, still talking on the phone about something.

Tim and Dave managed to mess things up however, as they ended up in a very small section of that apparently big, spacious closet, so they had to arrange themselves in a weird position. Dave was standing up, towering over Tim, who found himself sitting on the floor instead, right behind his friend… with his face perfectly aligned with his loose jeans butt. As his eyes got adjusted to the dark, Tim started to distinguish the seams and texture’s on Dave’s jeans ass, and the tiny red Levi tag on the right back pocket. He couldn’t help but take a look, which he felt really unnecessary, given the context.

“So… this is where you lived for most of your life…” Dave joked, looking around, as if the closet was some kind of fancy mansion.

“Haha! Another gay joke! Great timing, Dave!” Tim muttered instead. The last thing they had to do was talk.

The two waited for a couple of minutes, hoping that Dana would just leave again or even just go downstairs, so they’d have enough time to get out of there in the hopes that Dave didn’t leave any clue of his presence.

“As long a we remain silent…” Tim whispered.   “We have nothing to worry about.”

Only moments after saying that, he felt a very familiar sound greeting his face. It was a long, rumbling sound coming from Dave’s denim ass. It was one of his usual, well-known loud farts, a fart that he was desperately trying to keep as silent as possible. Luckily, Dana was too busy with her phone to even notice the weird noise coming from inside of her closet.

“Dave! What the fuck?!” Tim hissed.

The gassy friend tried not to laugh, realizing how idiotic the whole situation was.   “I’m sorry dude.” he murmured.   “You know what happens when I’m nervous!”  

The smell was unbearable already. Being in a such small space didn’t certainly help. Those were probably some of the smelliest farts Dave ever managed to rip in Tim’s face, although this time was, against all odds, more like an accident.

“Tim…” Dave whispered, carefully placing his butt closer to his friend’s face.

Another fart erupted, sounding dangerously louder than the previous one. The rough surface of Dave’s denim gently caressed Tim’s nose. The blast of gas then turned into something much more subtle, but still otherwise bubbly. Tim felt his nose burn, as really he had no choice but to breath all of that in.

“Dave I swear. If you don’t stop, Dana’s gonna–”

But another   “slow-paced” rumbly fart cut him off. Dave was seriously trying to contain his well-known farting abilities. Tim, instead, was trying to remain calm, feeling like the Universe was somehow messing with him. That was an insane situation: he certainly wasn’t new to Dave’s farts, but in that context, it felt almost like one of his weird dreams about his fart fetish.

“Tim I’m sorry, at least I know you don’t mind… I hope”

Funnily enough, despite the slightly amused tone in his whispering voice, Dave sounded genuinely sorry. Yet he was right: Tim was insanely enjoying it, but knowing that Dana was out there made the whole thing almost surreal. And, once again, as much as Dave always proved so chill about this stuff, he couldn’t help but feel somehow awkward about having his friend face-farting him so non-chalantly.

And yet another   “ninja” fart was ripped all over his face.   Being nervous really turned Dave’s stomach into a messy cloud of gas, and Tim’s nose was there to vacuum it all up, completely defenseless, standing before the sheer power of the gassy friend’s powerful denim-covered anus.

Even though the situation was absurd, Dave couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. After all, the smell hit him too, and it was getting insane even for the farter himself, whose gas just didn’t stop building up.

“Sorry bro… I have to do this.” he whispered.

Tim felt Dave’s hands gently grabbing the back of his head, holding it still, as he pulled him in the clutches of his denim butt. The warm fabric of the jeans was soaking in that unbearable smell. The sniffer then felt the weight of his gassy friend almost crushing his skull. Despite being dark, Tim realized that Dave was basically sitting on him, using his head as some kind of human stool.

The fart was directly ripped in Tim’s mouth at that point, that rumbly sound once again renewing the already destructive stench. It was supposed to be loud, so loud, that Dave had to basically use his friend’s face to deadpan its impressive thunderous noise. The gassy bro was trying to rip it in the form of a long series, hoping that Dana would fail to hear (or even recognize) his well-known gross, but rather impressive talent.

Tim heard his friend’s sighs of relief after each, rumbling fart, but Dave was also trying not to burst into a laughter that could blow their cover. Fart fetish or not, he couldn’t help but to find it more hilarious than gross.

As much as the lack of space in that closet wouldn’t really allow it, Dave even lifted his right leg a bit, while still   “sitting” on his stool-friend, as a way to facilitate the impressive amount of gas gushing out from his anus. It’s not like he had to worry about Tim passing out or finding it too gross, anyway.

That fart itself was lasting longer than both of them anticipated. They lost count of how much time passed, probably a full minute. Tim’s face was warm and sweaty now, still trapped in the clutches of his gassy bro’s denim butt, directly living in person that thin line between Fart Heaven and Fart Hell.

A final sigh of relief, followed by a louder toot and a chuckle.   “Sorry, bud.” Dave muttered, hoping that his plan worked.

Indeed, Dana didn’t hear a thing. She hung up and left the room, her footsteps slowly turning into a far, muffled sound, until silence announced that the duo was now free to get the heck out of there, especially considering how they were almost both choking on farts.

Tim forgot what fresh, non-fart air felt like in his nostrils and so took a deep, refreshing breath the moment he stepped out of that gas closet. Ironically, Dave did the same, maybe even wondering how would Tim even endure something as overwhelming as his farts, but he didn’t really mind anyway. Despite everything, that was oddly hilarious, as the two stared at each other and then bursted into a laughter.

“Now let’s get out of here…” the farter suggested.

But before the two could even walk towards the window, Dana showed up again in her own room. She didn’t even startle.

“What are you two doing here?” she asked, sounding more like an inquisitive mom than an angry girlfriend. She was fairly mature, after all. “I don’t know what you Dumb and Dumber are up to, but I swear if you–”

“I heard the news, Dana. We were just outside your window…” Dave explained, slightly tweaking the truth. “We wanted to play a stupid scary prank but then I heard it, while you were on the phone you know…”

Dana shook her head and laughed a bit. She hugged her boyfriend and kissed him.

“Yes! I got the job!” she giggled. “Sorry I’ve been so cold lately. The job interview made me so nervous…”

“It’s fine, Dana. You’ve always been stone-cold anyway!” Dave joked, earning a playful slap on his chest by his girlfriend.

“Yes, that’s a very import–wait what’s that smell?” the girl asked, sniffling loudly the air around him.

Tim’s heart almost stopped while Dave did his best to not just laugh like an immature prankster. His hair, clothes, skin, were completely “soaked” in his gassy bro’s gas, so naturally he’d himself smell like flatulence.

“Never mind. It must be you, Dave. He farts like crazy when he’s nervous, Tim, I swear.” she said, disgusted but slightly amused as well.

“Ow… it’s part of my charm, babe.” Dave replied, using what he would have considered an irresistible flirty tone of voice, which was super awkward instead.

“And yeah. Tim’s very aware of my skills, right?” he joked, winking at him, like the big teasing bastard he’s always been since he found out about his fart kink.

Tim just shrugged, faking a disgusted look, his heart racing fast, knowing that all he had to do after that was take the biggest shower in the hope that such unbearable stench didn’t fuse with the atoms in his body.

“Well, it’s gonna be a wild ride!” Dana exulted, happy about her new job offer.

“How about a round of beers to celebrate?” Tim suggested. “It’s on me, no worries.”

“Great idea, but I’m paying. I got the job, you dumb-dumbs get to drink!” Dana replied. She was in a very good mood.

“It’s fine, Dana! It’s the least we can do after-“ but Dave interrupted him.

“Come on Tim, stop living in outdated gender roles and let the pretty girl buy you a drink.” he said, faking a serious tone.

The girlfriend simply rolled her eyes and left the room “Just… meet me downstairs when you’re done saving the world, ok?”

As Dana was nowhere in sight, Dave simply turned to Tim and let another huge, long one rip.

“Shhh. Just tying up some loose ends here.” he said, shushing the gay friend, blasting what was left of his gas out.

“Are you finish-“ “Not yet” he simply said, as if he was making sure no particle of gas was left behind.

With one high pitched final note that was met with some immature laughter, Dave sighed in relief.

“With that said” he chuckled “You might want to take a shower.”

Tim simply nodded with an unamused expression.

“Oh, and you might want to leave the other closet you’ve been hiding.”

That was out of nowhere.

“No pressure bro, just know that we’re all always more than happy to have a beer with you.”

“Thanks Da-“

“Despite your bigoted views on gender roles of course.”

“I’m going to punch you now.”

The duo then headed downstairs and no one got punched luckily.

Tim thought about his friend’s words and how it was probably time to leave that metaphorical stuffy closet soon or later, not that he felt forced or anything.

Dana’s closet, however, that’s probably the only one he enjoyed being trapped into…

End of Episode 9

[sunjaesol]

For the prompts : Juke 4 & 17 💜🌟

KISS PROMPTS (closed) 4 + 17. An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose + Tucking their hands beneath the other person’s shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin

(college au... this was such a treat to write oh my god)

Watching Julie Molina battle the New York wintertime was absolutely hilarious. 

When Luke met the girl at the start of freshman year at NYU, he instantly knew she wasn’t from the east coast. The accent, the attitude, the lack of gloves on her hands by November. She was stubborn about it too, claiming that the weather should bend to her, not the other way. 

It was a joke, obviously, but it didn’t make it less funny. 

She’d be pouting and huffing and wearing a comical amount of sweaters on top and no puffer jacket was big enough to ward off the cold. Not even those curls of her were an insulator. 

(And he knew her hair was thick and warm, because he once held it back at a frat party when she was puking her guts out after one too many tequila shots.) 

They were walking through Washington Square Park, Luke contently sipping on his coffee as Julie was shivering beside him. They had a small break in between classes and he had convinced her to spend that time outside. 

One, cause Luke liked the cold. 

Two, cause… yeah, he’s had a big, fat crush on her ever since they properly met.

They both resided in Goddard Hall back then. Luke had been bored to death, aimlessly wandering the halls, when he followed the sound of a keyboard. That was how he found her. With her back towards him, she hummed along to her expert piano playing as she stared out the window with that gentle smile of hers.

Sure, he’d seen her at lectures, thinking she was cute, but he hadn’t spoken to her. Standing in the threshold and witnessing the way she embodied music felt like the world suddenly tilted off its axis. It hadn’t felt normal ever since, if he was being honest. Julie kind of took him aback without even trying. 

She quickly got over the fact he essentially scared her to death by flying into an impromptu flurry of compliments, and easily befriended him. Maybe because they were both freshmen and needed someone, maybe because it was fucking fate. Whatever. 

That accelerated thud of his heart burst into flames the second they sang together two weeks later for a class. Luke had a very simple outlook on life. If someone tapped into that innate passion for music in ways he hadn’t considered before, he was a goner. Julie did. And it hadn’t tempered in the slightest. 

Being best friends with her was great, but he’d lie if he said he hadn’t been in his feelings when she got with Nick for a couple of months, or when she flirted with guys at parties. 

Alex told him to just rip the band-aid off and tell her, but he’d rather stay friends forever - stand in her sunlight a little longer - than lose her over something as stupid as feelings. 

Julie groaned. “It’s so cold!”

“You don’t get tired of saying that?” he teased, bumping their shoulders. 

“No.” A smile pulled on her lips. “You keep reacting to it, so…”

“I asked if you also wanted a coffee and you said no.”

Her pout intensified as she rubbed her gloveless hands together. January in NYC was brutal, yet she refused to commit to the lifestyle. He bought her gloves last Christmas and she wore them once to appease him; they were probably stuffed in the back of her closet now. 

“Because campus coffee sucks,” she argued. 

Humming, he shrugged and took another sip. “Fair.” And then- “You could’ve stayed inside.”

It was the wrong thing to say, as her confused reply got his heart skipping a beat. “But you were going outside.”

He felt it again. That energy crackling between them whenever they said something a little too intimate - a little too real - and he couldn’t do anything about it without making it weird. There was this whole thing about not wanting to appear as some pathetic dude who was ‘waiting’ on her (even though he kind of was… yikes) or making a move cause he could. ‘Cause she was there.’ 

If he were to ever act on his feelings, he’d want her to know they were coming from a genuine place, not because he was a desperate asshole. 

His arm twitched to curl around her shoulders. To tuck her in his side, warm her up, let his hot breath ghost the exposed skin. Maybe pulling her in his lap on the bench, allowing his gloved hands to rub life back in her legs. Maybe-

Argh. Luke was driving himself insane. Not overthinking it any longer, he threw the arm that brushed hers around her and squeezed her shoulder. Boom. There. Fucking easy and normal. 

Her smile widened, his frustration instantly melting away at the sight and smiling back. 

“Thanks,” she uttered. “You’re like an oven.”

He smirked. “Cause I’m smoking hot.”

She rolled her eyes, though her expression stayed put. “Sure.”

“That smile ain’t changing, Jules,” he drawled, playful. “You know it’s true.”

Her hand clutched onto the back of his jacket, the action almost making him fumble over his words. He knew how they’d look to outsiders now and hoped she wouldn’t catch onto that. The way she was looking up, the way he was gazing down with stupidly tender eyes, the coffee dangling precariously in his hand as if he’d drop it in a snap to cup her cheek instead.      

(He probably would. Fuck campus coffee.) 

Her other hand looped across his stomach tucked herself closer, their strut slowing down. Giggling at their odd position, Luke knew his resolve would be gone if she didn’t pull away soon. That burning tug in his chest urging him to the edge of the cliff. 

“I feel used,” he joked.  

“By me,” she pointed out. “There’s a difference.”

This made him stop entirely. “There is?”

“Yeah, it’s because…” she trailed off, suddenly shy. 

His head ducked to meet her eyes with mischief in his tone. “Because?”

He didn’t know what he was trying to achieve here. What the fuck was he doing? The difference was that they were best fucking friends and she knew he didn’t mind close contact. Using humour to veil his flirtatious intent wasn’t going to change that.   

She sighed and abruptly moved her face. “Because-”

And then her lips touched his. 

They gasped, instantly pulling back to gawk at each other in surprise. Holy shit. Holy shit. It was just a mishap, it was just a mistake, he couldn’t think-

“-that,” she finished lamely, words barely coming out. Her eyes were wide and earnest. “Because of that.”

It was enough for him. 

Luke dropped his coffee, slid his warm hand on her jaw and coaxed her back. A shot of adrenaline shot through him as her lips slanted across his, hungry and eager. They were only one second in and it was already so fucking intoxicating. His eyes were screwed shut, overwhelmed from bliss rippling his skin and the way she sighed and deepened each new touch. 

He wouldn’t need coffee anymore if he got to kiss her like that every day. 

Sinking in his knees to be closer, his lips puckered into a dopey grin. In an hour or two, he’d go insane over how soft her lips were, how amazing of a kisser she was, how it trumped any of his fantasies - now, all he could think of was how fucking lucky he was. 

A shock of cold hit him, her hands sneakily having found their way under his jacket and sweater and now pressing against his sides. 

He groaned against her mouth. “Jules, your hands.”

She giggled, so dazed it could kill him on the spot. “I know. We now share my pain.”

“Sounds good to me,” he mumbled, going back for more. 

“Yeah?” Her hopeful tone got him looking at her, her shiny brown eyes and fond smile a one way ticket to falling in love with her in seconds. Maybe he’d been for a while. It didn’t matter.

They were here now. 

Gently plucking one of her hands and kissing the knuckles, he shot her a dazzling smile. “Yeah… but I’m gonna find those gloves I bought for you though. You will get hypothermia otherwise.”  

[ira-vaisman]

“Welcome. Please, take a seat, make yourself comfortable. Tea? Oh, no, don’t worry, this won’t be made public. Why? Do you have something to hide?”

“You see that hair, buddy? Full of secrets.”

PART 1: THE BASICS

What is your full name?

“Ira B. Vaisman. That’s Vaisman with a V. No, Ira without H. And the B stands for Benjamin, and that’s with a-, no, not with a Y! Give here, let me write it down for you.”

Where and when were you born?

“In the 70′s, or maybe 80′s, and somewhere here, in England, maybe. Yeah, no need to squint, I’m as good of a fellow Englishman as the next guy, whether you want it or not. Why? Do I look Scottish to you?”

Manchester, 1979.

Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.)

“Adults. Uh, my dad was a man, my mother was a woman, they were blessed with eyes and noses, and surprisingly enough, they could speak and work and cook, yeah.”

Yosef Vaisman, the son of a Manc clockmaker and a Manc clockmaker himself, with a tall and round body. And Rebekha Vaisman, née Perl, the daughter of a silk merchant and a merchant of love herself, with a delicate and dark-skinned body. Warm and loving, giving and selfless. A little weird, a little bit funny, occasionally very loud and always full of terrible jokes. Above all, proud. 

Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?

“Oh, yeah! Plenty! Have you ever been down to the harbour where they sell fresh fish? Ever seen the merchants press down on a fish ass and push out a couple of fish eggs? That’s basically how my siblings and I came to be. Grew up in one of those water plants, thirty to fifty of us, all looking like me, too. Honestly, I’m not even sure you’re talking to Ira right now. I might be David.” 

Lilach, two years younger and the toughest little creature you could possibly imagine. She should’ve died three times in her childhood, but she survived each time, and each time her cry grew louder and stronger. Now it was as though nothing could ever knock her over.

Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people.

“You ever been to St Maur? Ever met the St Maurs? Ever seen St Maur Castle? Yeah. St Maur. St Maur, St Maur, St Maur, that’s my whole life! Where I live and with whom. Big ass castle, many people, much wow. Not the biggest fan of my employers, so sometimes I stomp my feet real hard when I wake up in the morning; they sleep on the floor underneath mine, and I like to think it gives them nightmares. I guess you could say the people I actually live with are my colleagues, but truly, we’re more than that, we all feel like a big, happy family. Like back at home in my water plant with my fish siblings.”

What is your occupation?

“Footman. Thus the livery, buddy.” 

Write a bit about your physical appearance. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks.

“Sexy, handsome, hot, irresistible, uh-... Magnetic, hard to resist, good-looking-, ah, kinda let myself down with that last one. Rather anti-climatic, wasn’t it? Anyway. I’m 1.86 in meters, bit more in the shoes they make us wear. No, seriously, look, they got heels! Ridiculous, isn’t it? It’s like they want me to hit my head on the door frame... Ah, yeah, my hair doesn’t make me look much smaller, I guess, true. Good amount of floof I’ve got going on here, quite proud of it, if I may say so myself. It’s, as you can see, brown and kinky, that’s because my mother was a black moor fish. My eyes are brown too. Lame, you think? That’s where you’d be wrong! Because’s it’s a sexy brown. 

What else. Style of dress? You mean outside of this wretched livery? I only own one other suit. It’s brown as well. ... Camouflage.

Uh, I got plenty of scars, yeah, it’s hard to get through training without running into all sorts of mishaps. Here, that’s a burn from a tea kettle; this on my forearm, that’s a bottle that broke and I cut myself on; here on my eyebrow I got something of a crack from when another goldfish pal punched me with his fin, erm-... Well I got some other scars underneath all those clothes. I could tell you, but we got a rendez-vous later on, right? Wouldn’t want to spoiler you.

And no to the tattoos. I do want to get buried by my family’s side, you know. ... In the no-tattoo-section of the Aquarium.”

To which social class do you belong?

“Working, obviously.”

Born into the lower middle class.

Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses?

“Here, I want to show you something. Let me just take this coat off, there, now roll this sleeve up, here, okay. Now look at this. Hm-hm! Look at those flexing muscles, oh yeah! Does that look like the bulging sexiness of a sick man to you?” 

Blindness. Not yet, not soon, but eventually. One day. One day it would all go dark. And if he didn’t make it that long, then because a bright flashing light had seized his brain and extinguished it once and for all.

Are you right- or left-handed?

“Depends for which type of activity. For you I might just be both.”

Left.

What does your voice sound like?

“Sexy. Uh, I don’t know. Deep. Bit rough, but I guess I’m making it sound like that. Not everyone’s allowed to witness the beauty of my sweet melodic lullaby voice. You gotta pay for that.”

What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently?

“Ah, see, I got into a bad habit of using Christian exclamations, or whatever you’d call those. Don’t know when that happened. I was really good at not using any of that ‘Christ!’ and ‘Bloody hell!’ stuff, but it kind of just really fucks. You can really spit it when you’re upset, all those consonants and shit. Good stuff, yeah. So now I overuse it. I don’t know, maybe I’ll go to France next and start saying stuff like ‘Sacré Bleu!’ Though that’s Christian, too, isn’t it?”

What do you have in your pockets?

“Why don’t you reach in and find out for yourself?”

Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?

“I’m a footman, Sir. If I had anything that could possibly annoy my employer through repetition, I’d get sacked.”

Whatever habits he used to have, he made sure to get rid of it a long time ago.

[captainsourwolf]

*taps mic* okay hear me out

link is a clumsy college student living off ramen and mac n cheese and chips. one day while he gets some mac n cheese cookin’, he accidentally drops a dish towel on the eye of the stove. it catches on fire, he burns his mac n cheese, and runs everyone out of the building with the smoke.

he’s thoroughly embarassed, and even more so when this hot, bearded, manbun wearing firefighter shows up to lecture him about fire safety and how to properly cook mac n cheese without burning the building down. link is flaming hot and turned on by the time the dude is finished, and tbh link can’t decide what’s hotter: the sweat and smudges on his face, the couple of loose curls hanging over his forehead, or the way his biceps stretch his t-shirt to the point of busting. and okay he’s also finding the guy’s pecs pretty distracting too.

link doesn’t think he’s ever jizzed so hard in all his years than he does that night thinking about mr. firefighter busting out of his shirt and carrying link off to safety.

he looks up the fire station and finds out the guy’s name is captain rhett mclaughlin. the title of captain has link’s dick interested in 0.5 seconds. wonder if he likes to be called captain in bed? link would like to find out. in many positions. in many different places. just. get all up on that.

link is still link though and in the process of trying to make some thank you brownies for the captain the fire station, he drops the knife when he’s trying to cut them and tries to catch it and well, he’s link. he cuts his hand and fucking faints. just faints right there on the floor of his dorm room. and when he comes to it’s to the sight of a manbun and a very disgruntled face.

rhett cracks some joke about how they gotta stop meeting like this. link isn’t sure if he laughs or cries a little. he’s patched up and told to get it checked out if it doesn’t get any better and then rhett is gone. link didn’t even get to give him the brownies.

he tries again. this time he doesn’t hurt himself. he takes the brownies to the station, rhett isn’t there, and he’s severely disappointed. he goes home and jerks off to the image of rhett over him. minus the cut hand and the blood and bandages of course.

but link is link. this time he’s in the dorm lounge trying to use the microwave for his leftover burrito. he’s a smart guy but in a really dumb way, so it’s really no surprise when he suspends his intelligence again and leaves the foil on his burrito and just....look he’s an idiot okay. the microwave makes some weird noises and next thing he knows, his burrito is on fire. thankfully someone else is in there and thinks to grab the fire extinguisher while someone else calls 911.

this time when rhett comes hopping out of the truck lookin’ all manly and hot and shit it’s to a very embarrassed and blushing link. he barks orders at the others with him and then he’s coming to stand next to link with this look on his face that kinda reminds link of his grandpa when he’s pissed.

he gets this lecture about fire safety again that starts with “look, kid—“ and link puffs up and stands at his full height. he’s not a kid. he’s an idiot, but he’s not a kid. he’s a whole 22 years old thank you very much.

which okay, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about it later when he’s get a hand on himself and wondering if rhett would talk to him that way while he gets fucked. and maybe that’s the second hardest he’s jizzed, ever.

he finally gets the courage to go back to the station, this time with sugar cookies shaped like burning microwaves his friend made. it was funny at the time but now he’s starting to think it’s dumb. he’s gonna totally trash them but then rhett comes walking out in his stupidly tight shirt and stupidly tight jeans and grins real big when link hands him the plate. they chat for awhile, mostly about link’s tendency to set things on fire or injure himself. and let’s be real, the way rhett laughs all loud and hearty really does something to link’s insides.

and his hormones too but he’s a horny college student, sue him.

when link leaves he’s got a huge grin on his face and a card with rhett’s name on it.

he keeps the card in his wallet. but it’s a while before he sees rhett again. when he does it isn’t even his fault this time. this time it’s someone on his floor testing out their chem lab experiment and basically setting his desk on fire. so there’s that. but at least link gets to see rhett in for real action this time. running inside, yelling orders, coming out the other side all sweaty and smudge with ash and stuff.

if link slyly watches him strip off his jacket afterwards, then, well, it’s for science. rhett looks too damn good when he’s sweaty and post-fire and just. again, link is a horny college student. he’s pretty sure he’s jerked off enough the last few weeks to make his balls fall off.

this time rhett catches him staring. link blushes tomato red and maybe trips over the sidewalk in his haste to leave. he hears rhett laughing all the way around the corner.

eventually it happens again. jesus link has really gotta learn how to cook. his mama would be really happy to get a phone call that isn’t about her son setting something on fire. again. for the third time. along with an injury. look it’s been well established he’s an idiot. he tried to get fancy with the ramen this time, set it on fire, and twisted his ankle on the way out the door.

but it meant getting helped out of the building by rhett. so at least something good came out of it. even if it meant nearly passing out from the pain. he’s sure rhett would catch him and carry him off the premises. sixty percent sure.

rhett’s exasperated sigh says otherwise.

forty-five percent sure.

this mishap leads to link having to stay with a friend for a few days while his dorm gets cleaned. his ankle heals up just fine and he’s able to get back in his dorm in no time. he’s extremely embarassed when a knock on the door later reveals rhett on the other side. he’s got a plate of cookies—chocolate chip less chocolate chip ones to be exact—and says they’re for link. apparently when he cut himself he started rambling about cookies and wishing rhett would use his big biceps to make him some.

kill him now. please. like, just open a hole up beneath him right now and let it swallow him whole.

his mortification must be evident because rhett laughs that big laugh and invites himself inside. link dies a little when rhett brushes up against him. maybe he won’t die in a hole just yet.

turns out rhett came by to make sure link is okay. they’ve met quite a few times now and rhett doesn’t remember the last time he had to answer so many calls for one person. especially for one so cute.

link gets whiplash spinning around from his place at the fridge getting drinks for them both. say what? he stares rhett down and rhett stares him down and honestly link could probably set himself on fire with how hard he’s flushing from head to toe. damn.

it’s been very well established that link is a horny college kid. and that he has a thing for hot fireman captain rhett. and that he’s clumsy and a fire hazard but that’s not relevant to this part. so it’s really not surprising that later he finds himself getting dicked down by hot firefighter captain rhett.

multiple times.

in many different ways.

and he gets to call him captain and experience making someone jizz their brains out from voice alone. he could honestly get high on the feeling. he could also get high on rhett’s dick and how it feels in his mouth and stretching him open and busting on his tongue and later in his ass. he ain’t picky.

so maybe link’s a fire hazard but at least he’s got a hot fireman to come carry him out of a burning building like he’s some disney princess and fulfill all his fireman fantasies.

[izzabeean]

Chapter 5 : Impulse

SUMMARY

You've learned something you wish you didn't about Ushijima and now you wish you could forget.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 2,836

tags :  alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : What can I say, Y/N has a bit of a sweet tooth! I mean if I spent a day in the city you bet I would be eating a lot of food. Or is that just me? Anyway, I am happy with how this turned out! The next chapter is going to be so fun!

Will try to post every Thursday evening PST, if not latest by Friday.

Hope you're enjoying the series so far!

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Today sucks. 

After last night, you didn’t think it could get any worse, but you were so wrong. The sliver of hope that today was going to be a bit better quickly vanished in a matter of seconds leaving your heart even more shattered than you thought was possible. 

So why? 

Why is it that you saw the person you’d love the most with a girl you’d never seen before? As much as you wish it weren’t so, the evidence is right in front of you no matter how many times you try to push the image away. 

Staring down at your soft serve ice cream, nearly melted, you let out a big sigh trying to repress the tears wanting to form. You wish your favorite flavor of frozen dessert could solve all your problems, alas, the rich creamy flavors only remind you of a date you had with Ushijima… 

“It’s never too cold for ice cream,” you spout, arms linked with Ushijima marching your way to your favorite ice cream shop. It was this particular spot that made you realize Ushijima is more than what you’ve ever wanted in your life. You’d been dating for six months now, a new record in your love life, also a big surprise you haven’t tired him out with your nonsense.

Instead of arguing whether a cold dessert was an appropriate snack in the winter, he just let out a deep sigh in reply knowing you’re not going to be convinced otherwise. 

“Don’t give me that,” you holler, covering your face in your hands, refusing to look at Ushijima.

Gently, he grabs your hands pulling them away from your face giving you a little kiss on the cheek in apology for his teasing.

“Y/N.”

Oikawa’s voice pulls you out of your bitter memory back to sitting across from him at a cafe. Your heart drops, realizing that there will not be any more moments like that with Ushijima. Did everything always remind you of him this much?

“You’re ice cream,” Oikawa says, eyes locked on to the dessert dripping on your hand. 

Quickly you get up from the table grabbing some napkins to wipe up the mess you’ve made which resonates with you very well at this point. Not only are you emotionally a mess, apparently now you can’t even physically get a hold of yourself. Emotional pain is just temporary, yes, yet there’s this overwhelming feeling that makes you think your entire world is closing in on you.

In the process of cleaning up the sticky residue, you let out a growl noticing it’s dripped onto your palish pants producing a humiliating colored stain. You start pressing on the fabric in hopes your mishap would magically disappear… It doesn’t. 

Oikawa peers down at your pants attempting to conceal his chuckle with a titter.

“It’s not funny,” you rasp.

But Oikawa can’t stop himself from bursting into a loud guffaw resulting in a free-flowing of tears. 

Completely exasperated by the chaos, you throw out what’s left of your liquefied treat and sit back at the table covering your face with your hands. You didn’t feel in a rush to embarrass yourself more by strutting around the city with a large smudge of ice cream on your pants.

Once Oikawa gains his composure, he takes his jacket off and passes it to you across the table.

“You can hold this to cover it,” he offers.

The gesture feels loaded, like the true intent is much more devious than that, especially since he seemed to find it so amusing. There’s no way Oikawa could perform such gracious acts of kindness. 

“Take it,” he says. 

“Aren’t you going to be cold?” You reply, shoving the coat away with your hands. 

Oikawa shrugs, “I’ll be fine.”

Giving in to his persistency, you take the jacket. “Thank you,” you breathe.

You watch Oikawa straighten out his shirt and fix his hair as a couple of girls walk by giggling, smiling at him, one even gives a little wave. It puzzles you how Oikawa can be such a dreamboat, from your years of friendship, his reputation borderlines annoying and childish, but the little gestures he’s made today have really made you rethink; this was a side to Oikawa you’ve never seen before.

On your way back to the train station, you look out toward the horizon and see the sun setting; pinks and oranges fill the sky, and the sight before you is quite romantic. The scene itself ended up turning out to be soothing despite the alarming encounter from earlier.

Now your new reality is finally setting in where there’s no Ushijima.

“I don’t want to go home,” you utter.

Oikawa studies you with your head hanging low. The glow of the sun coats you in its gleaming rays, he wasn’t sure if he was imagining things but he noticed the light capture a shimmer of a single tear tracking down your cheek. Then it finally resonates with him: you're not okay. 

“Wish I could get out of these pants though,” you laugh. Then just like that, you revert to a smile. 

“Let’s take you out,” Oikawa says.

“Out? Like to a club?” You didn’t fully expect any sort of resolution from Oikawa, your comment was meant to be rhetorical. 

“Yeah! You, me, and Iwa! We never go together and it will be good for you to go out to have some fun!”

“I don’t know about that,” you sigh.

Oikawa’s eyes widen, the look on his face is full of excitement basically begging you to say yes. He must know you’re feeling vulnerable because it doesn’t take a moment more of hesitation to.

------

When Oikawa said he was going to take you out, he really meant it. The nightclub is lavish as loud music pulses in your chest while crowds of people huddle around the bar and scatter across the dance floor. 

Oikawa could be considered an avid clubber, how could he not be when he is so popular with girls, and had always tried to convince you to join him. You never really have, but you’ve also never really had your heartbroken to this degree. 

“It’s about to get even more crowded,” Oikawa yells into your ear.

10:13 pm on a Saturday evening and it’s going to get busier? Oh god.

Crowds aren’t your thing. Clubs aren’t your thing. Drinking isn’t really your thing. What are you even doing here?

“Shots?” Oikawa suggests pointing to the bar.

Your stomach churns at the thought. Diving into the night with shots seems excessive; they always leave a bitter taste in your mouth and the strong smell makes you want to gag. You wanted a drink to ease you into the evening...

“6 shots of Jäger,” Oikawa orders. 

Maybe not so much tonight.

The bartender retrieves the alcohol and brings back six shot glasses, each filled to the rim of dark liquor. Holding the shot glass up to your face, the potent smell makes your nose scrunch. With a cheers, you throw back the alcohol and the sensation burns your throat; it’s awful. Knowing there’s a second shot waiting, you don't delay the inevitable.

“Someone’s eager,” Oikawa purrs watching you down the second shot. 

The corners of your mouth turn down as the hairs on your back stand up. You let out an ick and turn to Oikawa and Iwaizumi who are both in awe of your tenacity.  Truthfully, you were shocked too. Then all the tension in your body seems to disperse, from the day, from entering the nightclub. You finally feel relaxed.

“Am I going to be waiting for you all night? Or what?” You tease eyeing their untouched liquor. 

Both men look at each other and take the shot in one gulp. Calling over the bartender you order another round, this time they’re a lot easier to take.

“You’re really not playing around,” Iwaizumi teases, impressed that you’re able to down three shots in a matter of minutes upon entering the venue.

Shifting your gaze to Iwaizumi, he looks so hot in his black button-up shirt with the top two buttons undone. A warm feeling fills your chest, you didn’t know if it was the alcohol hazing your perception or you were genuinely starting to crush on him. 

Damn it, you think to yourself while your eyes continue to linger on him. 

Considering your current situation, the smart thing to do here would be to do nothing. On the other hand, you couldn’t help that your heart fluttered in Iwaizumi’s presence. Surely, he didn’t realize the meaning behind his words but it brought you lower into the sort of absolution that you were definitely forming a rebound crush on him. But you couldn’t let yourself. Of course, if you did, you were bound to hurt Iwaizumi and your friendship with Oikawa. You had to stop yourself before it was too late.

Oikawa’s eyes fall onto you, noticing your ogling. You seem to illuminate with this glow he hasn’t seen all day and for a split second, he is fueled with irritation at the sight. But catches his outward anger and pushes it down, gaining composure. 

------

Keeping up with Oikawa for most of the night was a bad idea. Certainly, it didn’t occur to you until you stumble into the bathroom all by yourself, realizing you were most definitely unable to stand straight without help. 

Check yourself out in the mirror, you pull out your phone to take a raunchy selfie. You smirk at yourself checking the photo before posting it to your social media story.

That will show him, you think, hopeful Ushijima will see the image you’ve posted. He’s not the only one who can have fun.

Before even pressing “post” you get a text from Oikawa asking where you are. You giggle as you type come find me and press send with the intention of finding him first.

As you leave the bathroom, you begin to scan the crowd for Oikawa or Iwaizumi trying to recollect where you last saw them. The crowds of people in the vicinity make it practically impossible and the further you walk into the nightclub, the louder the music gets, the brighter the lights are, the warmer your body feels. 

All you wanted to do was get out.

Stepping outside, there’s this instant relief from the crisp evening air although it doesn’t last long, and soon a violent shiver courses through you. Turning around to go back inside the bouncer stops you then points to what seems like an endless line of people. 

“B-but, I-I just need to get my jacket,” you stammer.

“Sorry, ma’am. You’re going to have to wait in line,” he booms.

Your outward calmness cracks, too anxious to even think up an excuse. You needed to find Oikawa or Iwaizumi and you need to find them now! 

You turn your attention back to your phone as you begin to type out a text to come meet you outside the club.

“Hey sweet cheeks,” a raspy voice calls out.

You look up and see a rough-looking guy in line making intense eye contact with you. Normally you don’t judge, but your drunk bordering wasted self notes this man was very sketchy and it’s best to avoid him. So you turn your back to him and call Oikawa instead.

“Hey don’t ignore me,” he yells.

You start walking in the opposite direction from the line as far away from the stranger as possible. You’re a bit worried he can still see you and slip into an alley beside the nightclub, the phone still ringing on the other end. 

“Pick up. Pick up. Pick up!!” You mutter into the receiver. Oikawa doesn’t, so you try again.

“I don’t like being ignored, sweet cheeks.” The same raspy voice makes you jump as you turn around to see the scraggly man backlit by fluorescent streetlights, only making his appearance more menacing. 

The call goes to Oikawa’s voicemail again.

“Guess your friend ditched ya,” he continued walking closer to you. The statement sobers you up as his aura escalates to a more threatening demeanor. 

“They said they’ll just be out,” you squeal.

“Yeah?” The stranger keeps shortening the distance every step. “Why don’t you come with me?”

He’s so close now that you can smell his disgusting breath and you start to panic. “I-I can’t, I’m waiting for someone, th-thank you though.”

Why the fuck did you say thank you? Your brain screams at you.

“Oh come on sweet cheeks,” he coaxes, reaching out to clasp on to your wrist. “I’ll show you a good time.”

Your body freezes at his touch. It stings as a sharp pain from his grip makes you want to scream or cry, but the shock was melting your ability to. You felt so useless and timid in times of distress. You didn’t know what to do, you couldn’t escape searing clutches of--

“What do you think you’re doing?” A deep voice thunders.

The stranger turns to see the culprit and you slowly glance to see Iwaizumi with an intimidating aura protruding from him. 

“Just having a nice talk,” the stranger purrs, tightening his grip more and you let out a little yelp.

“Is that what this is? She looks pretty scared to me,” Iwaizumi retorts.

“This’ none of your business kid,” the stranger rages.

“Actually it is,” he demands stepping closer. “Let go of her.”

A vein on Iwaizumi’s neck pops out as his hands start to ball into fists. Now the stranger is intensely regretting his choice and you can sense it from the fact he’s visibly shaking. You are nearly on the verge of tears from the pain in your wrist and wonder if he was going to break it.

“Let go,” Iwaizumi orders again.

And this time he does, the man, nothing but a weak buffoon, frees your wrist and walks off in a trudge.

“You okay?” Iwaizumi walks over to you to take a look at your wrist. 

You nod, letting out a deep exhale trying to hide how petrified you were while holding your wrist.

“Does it hurt,” he asks, gently applying pressure to it. “Let me take a look.”

Initially, you flinch at his touch, afraid the searing pain will return, instead, his fingertips lightly trace your wrist while analyzing it thoroughly.

“Let me take you to a hospital to be sure.”

“No, no,” you breathe, locking eyes with him. “I’m fine, just a little sore.

Iwaizumi’s face flickers with a bit of uncertainty but decides not to push it and lets go of your wrist to take out a cigarette.

“Fuck,” you hiss. You felt like an idiot for going off on your own, for drinking this much, for going out at all. “I’m sorry.”

Deeply inhaling the smoke, he turns to you, “For what?”

“For running off by myself, and you totally just saving my ass. It’s just… pathetic,” you exclaim, reverting eye contact with him-- you’re slightly embarrassed and his silence is only telling, considering you barely know each other. “I swear to god, I’m not normally like this.” 

“It’s not pathetic,” he states, shrugging his shoulders. “Oikawa says you’re dealing with shit.”

Your reaction isn’t short of an embarrassment. His words hurt you as the scenario of Oikawa telling Iwaizumi about your break-up fills your mind. You scoff. “I’m fine!”

“You’re a horrible liar.” Iwaizumi didn’t have a problem calling you out as you stared at him after a few moments of silence. 

“So what am I supposed to tell him?” you mutter, this surge of anger sweeps over you, you feel this swell of rage boiling inside. “That it’s ok to see my ex, not even a day broken-up with a new girl? It’s fucking bullshit!”

He turns to look at you and blinks at your reaction. The sudden unexpected word vomit makes you pause. 

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to take it out on you,” you whisper. “It’s just weird, you know, all of it. I didn’t expect to be blindsided like that. It’s just…” You look over to Iwaizumi listening intently to you and feel your face grow hot. “Oh my god, I’m sorry! You never asked.”

It’s awkward and quiet, you’re pretty sure Iwaizumi can feel it too. You’re puzzled with what to say and feel pressured to express a less depressing answer. You didn’t want to drop the mood of the evening. In those moments, it became apparent you needed to sober up.

“Can I have one?” you ask. 

He looks at you with wide eyes, “You smoke?”

You take out your lighter that you have stowed away in your purse flaunting it as evidence of your new bad habit. Iwaizumi tosses you the pack of smokes.

“You’re not going to tell on me, are you?” You’re trying to sound like you’re joking but a hint of worry seeps through and you’re left waiting for a serious response from him.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

[yellowsuitcase]

I am loved // Draco Malfoy

Request:  I cant stop thinking of a draco fluff imagine inspired by the song Me and My Husband by Mitski. More specifically the line “i am the idiot with the painted face in the corner taking up space, but when he walks in i am loved”. Like could u imagine being bullied in hogwarts by pansy or something but when draco walks in nothing else matters and you can feel the love radiate off of him and it makes the reader and him realize they are truly meant to be and they just hold each other

A/N: Hey guys! Enjoy this little drabble. I’m thinking of doing other works based off of songs, perhaps I’ll do a couple more. Check out my Ron imagine!

Summary: Y/N’s “friends” are treating her poorly and making her feel worthless. But Draco makes it better... he always does.

Warning(s): Swearing, bullying

Word Count: 1.2k

“And then, get this, Snape got so angry with her he poured her cauldron out. Isn’t that right, Y/N? You really fucked up today,” Pansy snickered. Y/N’s friends giggled along with her as she recounted the events of their Potions class earlier that day. Y/N had been rather distracted and messed up her Befuddlement Draught so badly that Snape lifted up her cauldron and dumped the contents of it into the sink. He also took ten points from Slytherin, his own house, and sent her out of class early. It was definitely the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to Y/N in Hogwarts, yet.

“That’s not even the worst of it! He told her to leave, couldn’t stand to have her in the class anymore. I was trying so hard not to laugh,” Pansy continued. 

Y/N felt her face burn, but she stayed silent. She was the butt of all her friends’ jokes practically all the time. It hadn’t always been that way. A long time ago, the jokes were funny and playful, but that wasn’t the case anymore. The banter had been becoming harsher and harsher and had really begun to make an impact on Y/N. She felt so exhausted all the time. At the same time, she felt like there was nothing she could do. These girls were the only friends she had. Nobody wanted to be friends with a Slytherin unless they were a Slytherin too. It also didn’t help that Y/N was dating Draco Malfoy. That was Pansy’s favorite thing to poke and prod at. She never missed out on an opportunity to tell Y/N that she was the better match for Draco and not her.

“Merlin, how embarrassing would it be to be dating the best potions student in our year and still not being able to do the bare minimum? What did you even do to make the potion turn red?” Pansy asked Y/N directly. Her tone was mocking, and it made the others snicker behind their hands. “Yeah, Y/N, how did you mess up this time?” Tracey pipped in. Y/N dug her fingers into the dark leather chair she was sat in. Her friends had told her when she arrived that she had to sit there so that they could have the comfy couches. “I put in mistletoe berries instead of scurvy grass,” Y/N mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Daphne let out a shrill laugh, “what a fool,” she commented. The others seemed to agree with her, judging by their nods.

Y/N felt herself sink deeper into the chair, her friends’ words weighing on her morale. She hated doing this every day. Sitting in the common room and enduring the backhanded jokes from her so-called mates. She often felt as though she wasn’t even meant to be in Slytherin and that the old hat had made a mistake. Y/N wasn’t self-preserving, she wasn’t cunning, she wasn’t anything a Slytherin should be. And that was evident in the fact Y/N had never tried to put her foot down and stop the groups’ collective bullying. She couldn’t even come up with witty comebacks, a talent many Slytherins possessed. 

“What a waste of space,” she heard Millicent mutter. Her heart clenched with pain as she let their laughter, backhanded compliments, and insults fill her head.

“You’re such a fuck up, Y/N.”

“I didn’t expect you to actually do well in class today.”

“Not to be mean, but you look disgusting in that shirt.”

“How can you always manage to be this stupid?”

Her swirling, self-loathing thoughts were interrupted by Pansy’s high pitched voice calling, “Draco! I was wondering when you’d arrive. Come sit with us; we’re talking about what happened in Potions today.” Y/N turned around and looked at her boyfriend. He was scowling slightly at Pansy, but then his eyes met hers, and they softened. He gave her a little smile and strutted over to the chair beside her, taking a seat. Now that he was here and right next to her, Y/N felt more at ease. But that all flew out the window when Pansy started talking again. “Did you hear what Y/N did this time, Draco? Snape got so mad he threw out her potion. Not that it was even a potion at that point, she fucked up pretty badly.” Y/N wrung her hands together, trying to distract herself from her embarrassment. Draco said nothing; he only sighed and got back to his feet. 

“Where are you going?” Pansy asked. “You only just got here.”

Draco reached for Y/N’s hand and pulled her up from her chair. “My girlfriend and I will be leaving now. She doesn’t deserve to sit here and listen to her friends talk about a simple mishap she had.”

Pansy couldn’t hide the shock on her face. Draco hadn’t ever been that direct with her before, and it was clear she didn’t like it. “But Draco, we’re only joking. It’s funny, Y/N thinks so too!” she sputtered, trying to play it off as though she did nothing wrong. Y/N didn’t get the chance to answer because Draco released her hand stomped over to Pansy, getting right in her face. “Shut the hell up, you piece of shit. The only thing that’s funny is the fact you think bullying my girlfriend is okay. Newsflash, Parkinson, it’s not. And I’m sick and tired of listening to you spew nonsense about her all the time. It’s not cute, and I swear to Salazar, If I ever catch you being a bitch to Y/N again, I will personally see to it that your days at Hogwarts are completely and utterly miserable.”

Pansy stood eerily still. Her eyes were filled with tears, and her face had gone pale. Alas, Y/N didn’t get to see her cry. Draco took her hand in his once more and pulled her all the way up into his Prefect dormitory. Once safely inside, he turned to her, putting her face in his hands gently. “Are you alright, darling?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. Y/N smiled and kissed his hand. “Now that you’re here, I am.”

“Are you certain? I’ll do whatever you need me to do to help you feel better. I know how their words affect you. I’m sorry I didn’t do anything about it until now. I was hoping you’d find the courage to speak up, but I shouldn’t have let you suffer this long.”

Y/N frowned and put her hands on top of his, making him look at her. “Draco, you’re right. I should’ve stood up for myself. But I didn’t, and that’s on me. But I’m thankful you stepped in. I’m thankful for you. You make me feel so loved.” Draco couldn’t hide the smile creeping onto his face. “I love you too, darling. But it’s not on you. It’s not your fault they thought it was okay to treat you like rubbish. I know you were afraid of what would happen if you tried to put a stop to it,” Draco replied reassuringly. His girlfriend sighed deeply. “Well, now I don’t have to be afraid, do I?” she asked. 

The blonde boy smirked and pressed a passionate kiss to her red lips that were swollen from her nervous biting. With every kiss he gave, Y/N felt her anxiety float away. With every stroke of her head, her heart grew fuller. When Draco pulled away and took her into his arms and held her tight, Y/N felt content. Draco was everything she ever wanted. It was him and her; nothing else mattered. She didn't need shitty friends, and she didn't need to be the perfect student. All she needed was to be loved. And lucky for her, she was.

Taglist:  @beiahadid​

[221bshrlocked]

IV. Fixing

Pretend You Don’t See Her! Masterlist

Pairing: Mob!Sebastian x Reader

Words: 2471

Warnings: Some swearing. Slow burn.

A/N: Let me know if you want to be tagged in the masterlist post. And please comment, like and reblog and tell me how I’m doing. I am in constant need of assurance. This is not beta’d. I’ll reblog with the tags later.

Previous Part | Next Part

Sebastian made sure every one of his men knew what to say to Chris when he came in. It was something along the lines of  “Sebastian will beat the living shit out of you if he got a glimpse of your stupid fucking blonde hair.” He was past angry. He was furious, livid, fucking seething. This was no coincidence and he couldn’t believe it even if it was. But there was no way she just happened to be interviewed and hired here. And he knew Chris had something to do with this because he never told Tony once to hire someone without first seeing him. And ultimately, as much as he hated it, he wasn’t the type of person to get second chances. Life was never this nice to him.

Sebastian spent the entire night in his office, pacing back and forth until his phone rang, signaling him to go to the other bar for a quick deal with one of his partners. He had left by himself yet again, knowing he would most likely punch someone in the teeth if they breathed the wrong way. By the time he was done, he was on his way back home when he realized he forgot his keys in his office. Swearing into the early hours of the day, he walked back to his office, his head hanging low the entire time. He didn’t pay attention to anything or anyone, his mind trying to come up with something to say to you when he saw you next. 

He waved at his men when they tried to say something to him, heading to his office so he could leave before his tongue got him into trouble again. Fishing his keys out of his desk drawer, he was about to exit the office when he ran into someone, the hot liquid running down his chest snapping him out of his haze. He was about to yell when he saw you standing in front of him, eyes widening in horror at what had just transpired and before he could say anything, you were kneeling down and making sure he didn’t step on any of the broken pieces.

“I- oh god, I am so sorry sir, please. I...I didn’t think you’d be coming out of your office so soon and- and I was told to bring you your usual coffee and shit, I’m so sorry sir please, I- I’ll clean this up right away just d-” You were close to crying, not knowing how this could possibly happen on your first day. You looked up and saw his expression fall and you prepared yourself for the onslaught of insults. Quickly grabbing your towel, you were about to ask him if his chest was burned when his voice came out like a growl. 

“Stand up.” He ordered, his eyes piercing your own and finding it insulting that you were yet to listen to him. “Stand. Up.” Sebastian bellowed and you shivered at the outburst, continuing to stare up at him. You noticed his jaws tense, his eyes taking you in before he shook his head and left. 

“Fucking hell,” he muttered right before he turned the corner, leaving you a sad and confused mess. You were still cleaning up the floor when Tony walked by, silently questioning what happened. You didn’t know what to say. Technically it wasn’t your fault but you couldn’t say it was his fault either. So you just stared at him and promised him it will never happen again and that he could take the cost of the mug out of your paycheck. Tony smiled at you and shook his head, telling you it was probably just the first day jitters and that you should watch yourself the next time so you didn’t get hurt. 

As much as you tried not to think about that little mishap of an encounter with him, you couldn’t stop playing the event over and over again, cringing and swearing at yourself because for some odd reason, you still thought he was kind and slightly misunderstood and maybe he was just having a bad day. You hadn’t seen him for a couple of hours and when he finally came back, you were too busy bringing out drinks and cleaning the tables. When the orders died out just a bit, you stood at the back of the lounge next to one of the bouncers, Mark, chatting him up and asking him about the singer on the stage. He’d said something funny about Tony attempting to sing one night and almost getting kicked by Scarlett, the woman on the stage. But when your eyes turned to the room again, you saw Sebastian sitting in one of the corners, his eyes trapping you for a moment before you decided you should get back to work. Quickly thanking Mark for the break, you made your way back to the middle of the room, pretending you weren’t aware of the set of eyes following your every movement.

“Come on Y/N, you need to have eyes on the back of your head.” Tony brushed past you and when you were about to ask him what he meant, he pointed towards the table Sebastian was sitting on. You apologized and set the rest of the drinks down quickly, making your way over to the corner table. 

“G-good evening sir. What would you like to have?” You smiled at the two men standing behind him, your heart rate slowly decreasing when one nodded at you while the other returned your smile. 

You. Sebastian almost replied. When he saw just how nervous you were around him, he looked away and grabbed a few bills, sliding them towards you before ordering a cup of coffee. You took the money and placed it in your pocket before looking towards the other men.

“Would you like to drink anything?” You asked them and almost laughed at the obvious surprise etched on their faces. When neither of them responded, Sebastian crossed his legs and told them they were free to drink anything non-alcoholic. They both ordered sodas and were about to pay when Sebastian stopped them.

“It’s more than enough.” He pointed at your pocket and you nodded, walking away to get them some drinks. You went to Tony and asked him what it was you were supposed to do with the rest of the money to which Tony laughed and told you that was your tip. You gawked at the change left before grabbing the drinks and walking back. After you set them down, you reached into your pockets and set the rest of his money on the table.

“What’s this?”

“It’s your change sir.” You responded instantly, watching his expression go from quizzical to slightly entertained.

“I didn’t ask for it back.” He crossed his arms, smiling up at you as he took a sip from his coffee.

“And I refuse to take it on my first day.” The hint of anger in your tone made one of the men smile while the other’s eyes widened because did you just talk back to your employer? You didn’t care, however, because he may be your boss but you weren’t a charity case. Not giving him a chance to respond, you stomped away from the table, not looking at that corner of the lounge until the end of your shift. 

As you were finishing up, you felt someone standing near you. Turning around, you were surprised to see him waiting patiently until you acknowledged him. 

“I’m sorry sir, I’m not one to take another girl’s table.” You said, referring to one of the other waitresses who served his table after you left. You were pretty sure he wasn’t here to order anything but you didn’t feel like talking to him, afraid you’d say something that might get you fired, or worse.  You could tell he was about to respond but he held back, nodding before heading towards Tony.

For a second, you thought they were looking at you as they were discussing something. It was probably just your mind playing tricks on you though. 

You went to the backroom to change and grab your stuff to head home, hoping you wouldn’t run into him on your way out. But as soon as you exited the room, you saw Sebastian leaning against the wall, one hand ringing the rings on the other as soon as you stepped out and shut the door behind you.

“I- I wanted to...tell you that I’m- fuck, sorry I’m not g-good at this. Shit, I wanted to get this right and I don’t even know your name.” You were completely taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanor. Hours ago he was swearing and yelling at you but now he was barely getting out a proper sentence. He combed back his hair and you almost sighed at the oddly attractive nervous tick.

“Y/N. My name is Y/N.” You never looked away from him and smiled shyly to try and put him at ease. 

“Y/N.” The barely audible whisper of your name sent butterflies into your stomach and you unintentionally leaned forward into him. You were surprised when he mirrored your actions and leaned forward, slowly taking your hand in his before bringing it up to his lips. Maintaining eye contact with you, he kissed your knuckles and smiled up at you.

“Well Y/N, I wanted to apologize for the way I spoke last night, and for how I acted in the morning. My anger was...misplaced. And you didn’t deserve to be treated this way.” Sebastian spoke softly, and refused to let go of your hand even when he saw how slightly flushed you were from the intimate touch.

“It- it’s okay sir. I’m just a waitress. Nothing important.” You kept on staring at the way he was holding your hand, eyebrows furrowing when he tightened his grip and pulled you towards him. 

“Not to me,” was all he said before he reluctantly let go of you, his eyes shamelessly shifting to your parted lips before returning to your surprised orbs. “I wanted to tell you that I told Tony it was my fault in the morning, not yours.”

“Oh sir you didn’t have to-”

“Yes I did. And you’ll be happy to know that he said nothing but nice things about your first day. And I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with the tip. Ask any girl here and they’ll tell you I do that with all of’em. Not just you.” He only got a nod out of you, but it was all he needed to know you weren’t offended anymore. 

“And please, call me Sebastian.” 

“Sir I don’t think I’ll be able to do that.” You turned away from him, looking at the floor and hoping he wouldn’t notice just how much he was affecting you. But then he stepped closer to you and raised your chin so he could look at you.

“Please.” 

You weren’t sure what it was that made you lose all control of your brain. All you knew was that he was looking at you like you were the only thing important to him and that he was close to begging you.

“Anything for you.” You whispered back, flushing under his gaze when he smiled at you and let go of your chin. “You’re going to regret saying that sweetheart.” 

That seemed to snap you out of your haze, stepping away from his distracting scent and his warm touch to have some semblance of control on your body.

“I- I didn’t mean it t-that way-”

“Taking it back already?” Sebastian snuck his hands into his pocket, raising his eyebrows at your obvious flustered reactions.

“I’ll call you that only when we’re alone.” You were proud you didn’t stutter through that sentence but then he chuckled and leaned against the wall again.

“Oh you wanna be alone with me love?” Sebastian knew he was making it worse but he couldn’t get enough of your obvious embarrassment. When he saw you turning around to walk towards the exit, he ran after you and grabbed your wrist, stopping you before you got around the corner. 

“I’m sorry. I’m only kidding sweetheart.” He tried to get you to smile at him again but when he realized he may have pushed you a little more than he intended, he let go and stepped away.

“Good night Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waited, hoping that you would respond to him so he could leave instead of staying and teasing you even more.

“Good night Sebastian,” you said before quickly making your way past the exit, leaving a very content Sebastian in the hallway. He walked back to his office and threw himself on his chair, smiling like a lovesick puppy until he realized he was going to have to, not only confront Chris, but also thank him. As much as he hated him right now, he couldn’t not tell him that his advice worked. He still didn’t know how he didn’t punch his friend in the face when he saw him on his way out in the morning. Chris had miraculously managed to talk him down, telling him he should just go back and apologize for the way he was treating you. And Sebastian was going to do that but then Chris told him to go home and change so he could look semi-presentable when he did finally grow a set and apologized to you. 

It was only later when it finally clicked and Sebastian knew that, at some point, he needed to ask Chris how he knew he misspoke towards you. He wasn’t in the lounge the previous night or that morning so someone must have blabbed to him, which only meant that Chris made sure everyone knew to text him should anything arise between the two of you.

But Chris’ advice seemed to work apparently. He thought he’d need to buy you flowers or something else but when he spoke with Tony once he came back, Tony told him that he was pretty sure you weren’t the type to need any of that. All she wants is to be respected is what he said, right after calling Sebastian a dick, which he wasn’t wrong about.

All Sebastian needed to do now was to control his thoughts, and frankly his reactions and little outbursts, around you, which from the way you said his name, wasn’t going to be an easy task. But he was a patient man. He could wait, he could protect you from himself for a little while longer. The only problem was, would he be able to keep pretending now that he knew he affected you almost as much as you affected him?

[bloodfromthethorn]

Accident

Matty, usually, loves her job, but there are some days where she can't help but feel she just isn't being paid enough for it.

Part eleven of the July of Whump 2021 prompt challenge.

Also on AO3. 

..

For all its covert operations, thanks to the think tank cover, The Phoenix was still technically classified as a regular place of business. That meant a lot of things, like paying property taxes and having to report earnings to the state, but by far one of the most mundane outcomes was the need for an Accident Book. In theory, any time someone employed by The Phoenix was injured while at work they had to write a short report detailing the accident for the book, and every year or so, The Phoenix would have to submit their anonymised incident reports to the local council.

Of course, this posed something of a problem for a government agency trying to stay off the radar; even with identifying information taken out, someone was probably going to take note if a seemingly mundane think tank reported 18 gunshot wounds over the course of a single year.

The workaround, therefore, had been that any injuries acquired outside of the building – like, say, when agents were out on missions – didn’t go into the book, and instead it was filled with the much more minor things that occurred in the relative safety of the Phoenix. There were still a couple of things that had to be omitted, like Bozer getting stabbed, but mostly, the plan seemed to work out okay. With a whole block of science labs taking up a considerable chunk of the building, there were more than enough burned fingertips and electric shocks that weren’t suspicious to fill a passably convincing report.

That being said, Matty wasn’t entirely sure how she was supposed to play this one off as a standard workplace mishap.

“Okay, okay, stop. I’m going to need you to run this by me again. Start at the beginning.”

“Well, like I said, we had Sparky up on the table-”

“At the beginning, Bozer,” she cut in, shooting her two agents a firm look. Boze’s natural charisma was, as ever, unhindered by her glare, while Mac did his usual trick of falling back on his army training and acquired a blank expression to let any yelling wash right over him. Jack did the same whenever he was genuinely in trouble and it drove Matty crazy any time it happened.

“We were working on separate projects,” Mac explained in a much more level tone than Boze had managed. To be fair, that might have had something to do with the gauze wrapped tightly around his forehead. “I’m still trying to troubleshoot that luminogen work for the dev team – you know, the glowstick stuff?”

She nodded.

“Right. And Bozer-”

“I was trying to fix a glitch in Sparky’s programming.”

“You were trying to make him call you sir,” Mac put in with a snort. He sobered as soon as he caught Matty’s hard stare. “But, uh, yeah. We were both just in the lab doing our own thing. Then Boze called me over to take a look at something-”

“I needed a spare part of hands to rewire the circuit board while I updated the code, and you know how much Mac hates someone else messing up his wiring.”

“I wasn’t working on anything volatile, so I dropped what I was doing and went to help. All of my stuff should have been completely fine where it was.”

Matty eyed him critically. He didn’t look like he was lying, but then it was a little hard to tell how much of that was down to the concussion and the bruises swelling on the left side of his face. “But it wasn’t,” she concluded.

“One of the other lab techs came through when I was focused on Sparky,” he explained with a wince. “She didn’t know that I still had things running and she noticed that my nitrogen line was still live, so she shut it off.”

“Don’t we have standard practices in place so that doesn’t happen?”

“Yes, but she’s only been with us two weeks. She didn’t know any better.”

“Mhmm.”

“Honestly Matty, it’s not her fault. I shouldn’t have left an active reaction unattended without sticking a red form up. That’s the standard practice that’s supposed to stop this thing from happening.”

“But you didn’t fill in the form.”

“I didn’t think I’d be gone long and I was still in the same room. Besides, the team usually knows not to mess with anything I’m working on, whether I’ve put up a form or not.” He went to rub at his face, then aborted the attempt when his fingers brushed over the gauze, wincing. Bozer and Matty were both watching him carefully, but he didn’t start keeling over so it would have to be good enough.

Matty sighed heavily. Playing the blame game wasn’t going to get them anywhere; she just needed to know what happened. “Okay then. You and Boze were over with Sparky and a lab tech shut off a nitrogen valve. Then what?”

“Well, nothing, for a little while. I was using the nitrogen to keep the reaction system anoxic, so everything was already sealed. Even without the nitrogen feed, it should have been fine to just sit there until I came back to it. Only, it turns out that when you combine the fluorescent polymer our dev team synthesised with NMP – the solvent I was using – it drops a proton and turns acidic.” He rolled his eyes as he said it, as if judging his own mistake like either Matty or Bozer had any concept of how predictable the problem could have been, then regretted it as it sent him dizzy again.

“Let me guess,” Matty said to give him a moment to recover, “The acid burned through a seal?”

“A rubber bung I was using to act as an injection port,” he confirmed grimly. “The seal failed and oxygen got in.”

“And the polymer is pyrophoric,” she finished for him. When he shot her a startled look, she shrugged. “I do read the reports I get sent Blondie. The spontaneous fire problem was one of the things they wanted you to take a look at, right?”

“Yeah. I hadn’t got to that part though.”

“Evidently.”

Boze jumped in to spare Mac the effort of defending himself. Now that the actual chemistry stuff was out the way, he knew the rest of the story. “While all this was happening, we were having a few problems with Sparky. The code was disagreeing with his logic boards, and it was making him fritz out pretty badly. He nearly took Mac’s fingers off when he sat up without warning.”

“And scared the hell out of us both,” Mac agreed.

“Yeah. Thank god Jack wasn’t in the room. We’d still be trying to get him down from the rafters.”

Matty cleared her throat and the pair of them snapped back to attention. Well, as at attention as Mac could reasonably be sitting up on one of the examination tables in the med bay.

With a cowed look, Bozer continued. “We were trying to work out what had happened, so we got Sparky going through a few movements. Because we weren’t finished, we didn’t bother getting him down off the table, so when he stood up completely…”

“He was a nine foot tall, eight hundred pound accident waiting to happen,” Mac finished. He gave a single shoulder shrug when Matty raised an eyebrow at him. “What? Even I’m willing to admit this whole thing was stupid.”

She’d more or less pieced together the rest of the story by now, but she still felt she should hear it for herself. Proper protocol and all that. “Alright. Then what?”

“We were trying to get Sparky back down when the reaction system blew,” Mac said. “We were far enough away that we weren’t at risk of burns, but Boze got a facefull of dye and Sparky got knocked off the table.”

“And onto you.”

He grimaced faintly, casting an offended eye at the sling supporting what had recently been a very dislocated shoulder. The expression did nothing to soften the bruises scattered across his face. “Yeah.”

Beside him, a slightly discoloured Boze swayed to knock their uninjured shoulders together. “Sorry, man,” he said, not for the first time. “Can’t help but think this is my fault.”

“It wasn’t. My reaction, my boom. Besides, you’re the one who’s going to be glowing in the dark for the next two weeks.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure the ladies will love it. You’re the one with the busted up arm.”

“It’s nothing, really. My shoulder pops out all the time.”

“You say that like it’s comforting and I gotta tell you man, it really ain’t.”

Matty’s gaze flicked between them. As much of a mess as Mac was, and despite the fact that Bozer was a lot more green than he had been when he’d arrived at work that morning, they’d both been signed off by medical with minor injuries. In theory, it was exactly the sort of thing that should go in her accident report, and yet she had a sneaking suspicion this particular story was going to raise a lot more questions than she was really willing to answer. It was funny – Mac had a habit of bringing that feeling out in her.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay. I think I’ve got the picture. I’m not even going to pretend I understand how you managed to configure such a comedy of errors, but I trust that you’ve both learned how to avoid this problem in future?”

Like two boys caught doing something they shouldn’t, they both nodded quickly in unison. She couldn’t quite bite back her smile. “Alright then. Bozer, you’re cleared to work for the rest of the day should you wish to. Mac, you’re off rotation entirely until that concussion clears up, then it’s light duty to let your shoulder heal. I’ve called Jack to come pick you up.”

That certainly got his attention. “You called Jack? It’s his day off!”

“I’m well aware. But you can’t drive with that arm and as your nominated next of kin, he’s left standing orders to be informed every time you get injured. He should be here any minute.”

Bozer was snickering to himself, while Mac’s expression had folded into something between desolate and sheepish. Matty had had a hell of time getting Jack to calm down and listen when she’d first called to tell him Mac was in medical and evidently Mac had some idea of the helicopter parenting about to rain down on his head. Maybe that would be the thing to actually make him realise the seriousness of his own actions.

“Great,” he muttered sarcastically, just as Matty heard the door to medical swing open so forcefully it cracked against the wall. With a dry smile, she stood back and waited to see the fireworks.

[theatersanddemons]

I’m going to share with you all one of my favorite scenes I’ve roleplayed with my partner.

Notes: Dia is Diamond (Balan and Fia’s child) and Nightlight is Lance and NiGHTS’ child

Nightlight refers to NiGHTS as ‘Nidad’ and Lance as ‘Nibi’

Dia refers to Balan as ‘Papa’, Fia as ‘Dad’ and Lance as ‘Zizi’

It’s a running joke that Dia burns things/sets things on fire by accident, they are not a pyromanic.

My partner plays Balan, Lance and Nightlight

I play NiGHTS, Dia and Fia

And no, I don’t constantly capitalize NiGHTS because it gets tiring

The ‘run over by a tractor’ bit is a reference to one of the chapter trailers

Balan gets in trouble with his mate

"Stop acting like I'm a pyromaniac!" Dia whined softly. "I don't try to set things on fire!"

"No, it's just sometimes you don't realize how hot you've made things or how much power you're putting into something." Fia chuckled softly, taking a slice as well and trying it. "Mm~ Agreed, you've definitely improved~"

"Thank you..." Now they're blushing at their parents' and best friend's praise.

"You're welcome my dear! Keep it up and you'll be making cuisine's like Lance in no time!" He gave his lil bean a kiss on the temple before making the other half of his slice disappear.

"I believe my parents would love to try this as well, I'll save them some for later." Nightlight grabbed 4 pieces and placed them on a napkin before floating away to the kitchen.

"You think so?" Dia perked, smiling bashfully.

"That reminds me, Lance still owes me a cooking contest." Fia chuckled softly cause their child to groan playfully.

"Oh no, not again!"

"A cooking contest? I'm afraid I missed when that became a reality. Is this a new concept?" Balan questioned, his head tiling to the side just a tad.

"Eh... not really? It's just a little thing for fun Lance and I have done a couple times. We take turns choosing a dish to make and have others try them." He shrugged.

"Him and Zizi are tied 3 for 3." Dia huffed playfully. "But the kitchen is a war zone when they do it."

"I can tell it drives my nibi insane with the clean up they have to do afterwards." Nightlight chimed in after flying back to sit beside Dia. "Things get quite interesting during those contests."

"No more spicy things, last time I swear I was gonna have a hole burned through my tongue." Dia pouted before sniggering. "It was good though."

"We'll be sure to ease up on the spices." Fia chuckled softly.

"That would appreciated, my stomach was not happy with me after that...very uncomfortable evening."

"Huh! That sounds like fun! How come I was never invited to any of these?"

"Every time it happens you are in other realm kicking corrupted things and getting chased by flying rocks." They quietly explained, taking a sip of their boxed chocy milk. "It's quite humorous honestly."

"Oh...that explains a lot." The maestro replied, a bit shocked he actually kept missing out. And that Nightlight knew about the rock incident.

"We do try to arrange them for everyone to be available." Fia rested his hands on his hips as his lips pursed, "But Nightlight's right, you're always working during them." Such is the pain of having a workaholic partner. "And what's this about being chased by flying rocks?"

Dia covered their mouth to hide a grin, "Watch out Papa, Dad's got that tone again."

Balan flinched slightly as he glanced away somewhat nervous now, lightly pulling on his shirt collar. "Oh haha, about that! It was nothing I couldn't handle, just missed my mark that's all!"

"Uh-huh..." Fia squinted at the maestro before sighing and rolling his eyes. "One of these days you're going to get a concussion."

"...Dad, you say that like Papa hasn't had a concussion before." Dia looked genuinely confused.

"He hasn't, as far as I know?" Fia looked back at Balan with a raised eyebrow.

"...I have no idea what they're talking about." If he could sweat he would be drenched by now. "...." He grabs another slice of pizza and pulled the rim of his hat down to hide his eyes as he took small nibbles of it. For once he didn't want all the attention on him.

Nightlight snickered softly at the scene before them, they could only guess even partners didn't tell each other everything.

"That's not surprising, considering how out of it you were." Dia leaned on their hand with a grin, "You remember, right Nigh? Papa was sooo dazed from that hit."

Fia pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, "......"

"If I recall correctly, he walked into several walls thinking they were doors."

"Kids, could you please stop trying to get my head kicked off?" He squeaked out. It was embarrassing enough remembering his rare blunders but now he was in the hot seat with Fia and...let's just say you don't want to be in the hot seat with Fia!

"Sorryyyy Papa." Dia drawled. "But honestly, we thought Dad knew! I mean, why wouldn't you tell him?"

"Gee, I wonder." Fia deadpanned, shaking his head.

He's slowly sinking into the couch cushions now. His metaphorical goose is cooked no doubt about it now!

Nightlight just shook their head in fond dismay, their uncle was much too easy to tease.

Dia's giggling behind their hand, honestly it was just too funny to watch their papa and dad interact like this. That's why they saved those kinds of moments. And they and Nightlight weren't the only ones.

Rolling his eyes, Fia gently poked his mate, "Oh don't be so dramatic, Balan." Honestly, "trying to get his head kicked off", please!

He had better ways to "punish" his lover

"Didn't you know Fia, I'm all dramatic." He slowly lifted his hat to uncover his eyes again and pouted. "I run on the drama."

"You have never spoken a truer words, Balan." Well well, look who's returned from their lovely date!

"Nibi, Nidad!" They floated off the couch and flew over to their parents rather swiftly to hug and nuzzle them. "Welcome home."

Lance smiled warmly before nuzzling back. "Thank you lovely, were you good for your uncles."

"Yes, Dia and I made pizza. I saved you some slices in the microwave."

"Oh that's wonderful, dear." Nights chirped as he hugged them back, beaming.

"Yes, but there's your drama and then there's the over the top drama." Fia hummed, "Welcome back you two."

"Thanks~ What have you all been up to?"

"Putting me in the Tim house, that's what." Balan answered, somewhat glaring at Dia and poking them in the belly. "Otherwise not much else."

"I see, it sounded to me like they were spilling all of your little mishaps. Like that time you-"

"Lance! I am in enough trouble as it is do not making it worse." He warned while turning around, his death glare rather evident. "It is nothing I can not handle."

Dia squeaked and batted at her papa's hand, "It's not our fault you won't be honest with Dad!"

"No, no, by all means, Lance. Tell me what else I don't know." Fia took hold of Balan's hand gently to stop him from making Dia into a mouse.

"Gladly.~" They are grinning like the Cheshire cat as they floated over to the couch, with Nightlight following behind. "Before I had been interrupted, one of our guests had a fear of chickens. And during a bout he had been rolled over by a corrupted egg."

"Uuuuuuuugh........" Time to sink into the couch again.

"This happened before you arrived Fia. He once told me he had been run over by a tractor while observing one of our past visitors. It is a mystery that he didn't notice it before hand."

"Run over by a tractor." He repeated flatly.

Nights cough/laughed against his hand, "Oh goodness..."

Dia couldn't help giggling at the exasperated look on their dad's face.

"I was paying attention to other things, I guess it didn't pay it any mind."

"Did you not feel any vibrations Balan?" Lance questioned, raising an eye ridge.

"...If I recall correctly...I was flying so...possibly not."

"That is...rather amusing." Nightlight commented with a slight smirk.

"How did you get run over if you were flying?" Nights questioned, tilting his head. "Surely you were high enough to avoid it?"

Fia's just gonna pull the maestro to him, shaking his head.

"...Okay perhaps it was more like hovering...a few inches off the ground."

"That makes more sense."

"Uh-huh..."

"Oh yeah!" The Nightmaren hit his palm, "I remember you mentioning to me about that kid obsessed with flying and all the crashes that happened! Didn't he make you go flying by accident?"

They all are just trying to see who can get the maestro in the most trouble.

“...Yes. A rather enthusiastic child..." He pulled the rim of his had down and slumped. Had he really been that klutzy? How embarrassing.

"You seem to have a knack for getting yourself hurt, Balan." Fia mused softly, his tone neutral.

"And it sounds like you don't know the half of it."

"Are you alright Uncle Balan?"

"Fine, it was bound to come out anyhow." He began nibbling on the pizza crust quietly, just looking like a hat with two holes in it...and a pizza crust. "Mm...needs cheese." He murmured, who doesn't love a good cheese crust?

"I'll keep that in mind for next time." Dia hummed lightly, stretching out with a sigh, "I'm gonna make something for everyone all by myself!"

"I'll have the fire department on speed dial."

"Daaaaaaad!"

"And the fire extinguisher on hand." Balan remarked, with a slight glance towards his child.

"I'll keep a close eye out for them as well." Nightlight chimed before laughing and poking Dia's cheek with their horn. "As a head chef of sorts."

[astraeagreengrass]

Hope Springs Eternal

Bucky Barnes has one last thing he needs to do before he goes to war

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2.583

Warnings: angst, mentions of war and war-related themes, light smut - not explict, but please don’t read if you’re under 18!

A/N: This is my extremely late submission for @thinkoutsidethebex’s 600 Follower Writing Challenge - thank you Bex for having me! Special thanks to @xbuchananbarnes for proof-reading this. This story is part of When The World Was At War We Kept Dancing, but can totally be read as a stand-alone. The banner picture was found here. I hope you like it ♡

It was an ordinary wedding.

Early Sunday afternoon, in a tiny church in Prospect Park. The ceremony was brief, less than thirty minutes long, presided by a minister that confused your last names.

"Barlow sounds nothin' like Barnes,” you heard Steve grumble from Bucky's left, cut off by Becca's loud shush. You didn't have it in your heart to rebuke the priest: your wedding was his fourth of the day, and he still had a dozen or so more to go ahead of the sunset. Besides, he'd been kind enough to move the nuptials forward when Bucky's furlough dates changed, so you could grant him that mishap.

The groom wore his army greens. Olive jacket and pants, shirt and necktie in shades to match. The gold buttons shone bright and brand new, like American glory. The long months at Camp McCoy had changed Bucky - his hair was shorter, his shoulders broader, his palms rougher. You'd waved goodbye to a man in November and welcomed another in June: a Sergeant, with a suit and cap to match his responsibilities.

You felt the calluses as you slid the ring on the left finger of his right hand - the same hand he now used to reload bullets and pull triggers. According to Steve, Bucky must’ve been extremely good at it, otherwise they’d never have promoted a young, conscripted soldier like him to Sergeant so quickly.

You wanted to be happy about it. To not feel an atom of fear as the minister declared you husband and wife. To not tremble behind your veil or choke in the words you had to repeat. There was no time for personal vows - too many women in white were waiting to walk down that aisle, wondering if they'd only ever be granted two weeks with their spouses before a war they never asked for ended their marriages that never had a proper chance to start.

Uncertainty was a typewritten letter on military-stamped stationery, a snow-barren Wisconsin field, a ship departing to England on the fifteenth morning of July. It left a bitter taste in your mouth when you and Bucky kissed for the first time before God, your families and your country. From that moment on, you were his and he was yours, the minister said.

You just couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he was more theirs than he was yours.

My love,

In seventeen hours, I’ll be home. One last bus trip and one last train ride until I see your face again. This letter will probably arrive at your doorstep after I do - and by then I hope you’re not there anymore. I hope it gets lost in the mail because you’ve changed your name and moved to the home you’ll share with your husband. And I hope you know that lucky bastard will be sure to tell the postman you’re Mrs. Barnes now. Y/N Barnes. It sounds pretty good if you ask me.

“Promise me you’ll write as soon as you get there?” you asked.

The train’s whistle drowned out Bucky’s answer, and you grimaced, muffling out the deafening noise with your gloved hands.

When it was over, Bucky gently removed your palms from your ears and laced them with his. He gently pressed his thumb to the knuckle of your finger, feeling the ring underneath the fabric. It was a simple band with no stone, far from luxurious but still more expensive than he could afford. He was almost embarrassed as he proposed, mumbling about the ring “not being enough” for you, but you shushed him with a kiss, whispering that you’d marry him with a twisted piece of wire.

“I’ll write to you everyday until I get home,” he promised. “You’ll beg the postman to stop delivering my letters.”

“Never,” you swore.

Three minutes to nine and you were one of the last couples lingering at the platform. Bucky's train would leave at the top of the hour to Chicago, and from there he'd go to Camp McCoy in Wisconsin until the army granted him a short furlough before the eventual departure to Europe. You were trying awfully hard not to think about that last part.

“I’ll miss you, Jimmy,” you said, holding back tears.

A shadow of a smile bloomed on the corner of his lips. Your handsome soldier - strong and unwavering, even as the unknown lurked on the corner of his life.

“I’ll miss you a lot more, doll,” he declared, pulling you in for a hug.

“Impossible,” you replied, voice muffled by his jacket.

Bucky grinned.

“Wanna bet a dance on that?”

The train whistled one more time and the railway man started screaming for the last passengers to board. Your answer was lost to the smoke billowing from the locomotive.

“Take care of my girl for me, will ya? If anyone gives her trouble, tell ‘em her man’s away at training camp. He’ll be back before she knows it.”

You rolled your eyes.

“She’ll be fine. Just hurry home.”

One last peck and Bucky was gone, the last passenger in before the train door shut with a bang that echoed in your heart. You waved at your fiancé from the edge of the platform until his figure was long gone, the engagement ring he gave you weighting your hand down with all the promises this war was daring him to keep.

My journey home seems longer than wintertime in Wisconsin. Did I ever tell you that there was still some ice on the ground in early April? I thought nothing would ever bloom in that place, but then some daisies sprouted on a patch of grass near the barracks a couple of weeks ago. They reminded me of Mrs. Roberts and the daisies she used to keep at the front windowsill of the boarding house. Are they still there? Do you think you’d like to have some daisies at our house? Or maybe roses?

The conscription letter burned a hole in Bucky's pocket.

He swore he could smell it, even. There was something foul prickling his nose and he thought it was the letter aflame, scorching the paper, his pants, his life. It's what he wished he'd done to it, anyway: set the rough parchment on fire like he would a cheap cigarette, then step on the stub for good measure, but it was useless.

The letter was Bucky and Bucky was the letter. It'd given him a number made of ashes, and now he was no longer man - he was ember, stoking the flames of the fire that laid waste to his world and time.

All the way to the boarding house you called home, Bucky thought of Steve. He'd hate that Bucky was drafted - to the 107th, no less - and he wasn't. It would only make him restless, even more determined to join a war that Bucky wanted no part of. And he hated the part of him that was envious of Steve's bravery right now, because the other part was busy making plans to run away with you to Mexico.

Bucky was supposed to marry you, not sail across the Atlantic. You'd been dating for over two years and he'd saved enough money for an apartment. His Ma kept complaining about grandchildren and Becca resorted to dropping not so subtle hints over Sunday lunch, like if you'd rather have emeralds or sapphires on your engagement ring. His savings weren't enough for neither, but Bucky still hoped you'd take him as your husband.

Hope was a funny thing for a young man like Bucky Barnes to have in 1942. Hope that you'd marry him. Hope that Steve wouldn't find a way to join the Army. Hope that he wouldn't lay to rest in a shallow grave with hundreds of other men in Europe.

Mrs. Roberts, the landlady of your boarding house, was tending to her daisies when he approached. She was a grouchy old woman whose husband died in the Great War - the greatest one so far, at least - who ignored Bucky most days, unless he did something she considered incredibly scandalous, like bring you home after 10 P.M. Today, however, she cast him a glance from behind the bushes.

“Well then,�� she started. “They called ya name, didn’t they?”

Bucky was confused.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve seen that look on your face before,” Mrs. Roberts said, plucking a flower from the stem with a pair of gardening scissors. “It was the same look my husband had when he came out that very door to get the mail one morning and found out he’d been conscripted.”

She waved to the front door of the boarding house with the hand that still held the scissors.

“How are you planning to tell her?”

Bucky cleared his throat.

“I’m not sure yet.”

The woman shook her head.

“There’s no easy way to do it - and I mean all of it. Wars are nasty things, son. No one really wins them.”

In a fraction of a second, Bucky thought he could see a young Mrs. Roberts, before the grief and the heartache, yet as quickly as it came, it disappeared.

“I’ll marry Y/N before I go,” he declared with all the certainty he could muster, but his promise sounded empty.

Mrs. Roberts smiled, and before then Bucky never knew that a smile could be sadder than tears.

“Just don’t forget to come home to her.”

Whatever you want, we’ll have it. One of the boys in my regiment said you should toss rice on the newlywed couple as soon as they leave the church, did you know about that? According to him, it’s good fortune. Or maybe he was just teasing me (‘cause he said something about a garter belt, as well. Now, I am no Becca Barnes, wedding expert, but I’m sure that can’t exist).

You and your husband walked out of the church hand in hand, under a soft smattering of rice thrown by your few guests.

He kissed you under the arched entryway, pulling you in against his chest with more vigor and less modesty than he had on the inside. The buttons of his green jacket pressed your breastbone through the fabric of your dress.

Steve was the first to congratulate you, hugging you and Bucky at the same time. You were surprised to see that, behind him, Ms. Roberts was discreetly wiping her tears. Bucky’s mother Winnifred was delighted, cheerfully announcing to the guests of the next wedding: “Look at my children!”

There was no reception or party. The greetings at the front lawn of the church were brief, and soon another bride was walking down the aisle and Bucky was holding the door of a taxi open for you.

"You look beautiful, Mrs. Barnes," he whispered in your ear as Brooklyn rushed by.

The apartment was a small two-bedroom on the third floor of a building that probably housed more people than it should, yet, in your eyes, it was perfect - even with the handed down pots and pans, and the two or three boxes of clothing you hadn't had the time to unpack the previous week. It was simple, modest and perhaps a little messy, but it was yours.

Bucky surprised you by lifting you in his arms and carrying you through the threshold. Your giggles echoed off the walls, dissolving in a sigh when he laid you gently on the bed. The sheets smelled like him from having slept on them the night ahead, comforting you. It wasn't the first time you and Bucky had sex, but it was the first time you'd do in your own home, your own bed, as husband and wife. This realization brought a shiver down your spine.

He took your shoes off, placing them on the floor with care before running his hands carefully up your ankles and calves, through the light fabric of your stockings. When he got to your knees, Bucky pushed the white fabric of your dress skirt away just far enough that he could graze your thighs, until his fingers brushed your garter belt.

He grinned, blue mischief tinkling is his gaze.

"I knew it!"

You wanted to hide your face in embarrassment, and curse Becca for having such a terrible idea in the first place, yet Bucky was quicker, pulling the garter down with the left stocking and then quickly reaching for the right one. He turned the strip of lace in his hand, a sly smirk in his pink lips.

You rose to your knees, pulling him to you by the green tie. You ripped the jacket from his shoulders with such force that some of the gold buttons flickered to the ground in twinkling melody. The bed creaked and Bucky laughed at your eagerness:

"Did you miss me?"

"Yes," you breathed into his collaborne, pressing kisses in whatever bit of skin you could find.

“Do you love me?”

“Lots more.”

His deft fingers found the zipper of your dress, and he pulled apart just enough to undress you. Your lingerie was made of the same fabric as the garter belt, and Bucky's eyes widened.

"How did I get so lucky?" he breathed.

The muscles of his back hypnotized you as he took off his shirt, dragging you to his lap, legs tangling together in the mattress. Your nails left indents on his biceps and a twisted thought occurred to you that maybe they could stay there forever.

That way even Death herself would know Bucky was yours, and wouldn't dare take him from you.

“Touch me,” you gasped. “Touch me, James, please.”

Your lovemaking was lascivious and fast. You and Bucky had been apart for too long and there was too much frustration, absence and lust clouding your judgements. Tiny droplets of sweat descended from the underside of your chin down your throat and the valley of your breasts, which were pressed firmly against Bucky’s chest. You wanted to keep your eyes open, to record in your memory the way his hands gripped your waist and his hips girated against yours, but the absolute ecstasy of having him again was nearly maddening.

Bucky came mere just seconds after you did, groaning curses in your temple. Your tired bodies collapsed in the bed, yet your feet were still somehow entwined, making it look more of a tumble and less of a graceful catch of breath. The late afternoon sun reflected on your husband's wedding ring and you wondered how long it would take for him to have a tan line.

Bucky pulled you to him and you rested your forehead on his shoulder.

"I love you," he said.

You didn’t reply, instead just breathed in the salt on his skin. After the pictures, the greetings and the sex, fear showed it’s ugly face again. You weren’t religious, but you found yourself hiding in the crook of Bucky’s neck, praying to the same God that united the two of you in matrimony.

Please don’t take my husband away from me.

I want more than two weeks.

I want a life.

Bucky called your name, raising your chin with the tip of his forefinger.

“I love you,” he repeated. Then smiled: “Mrs. Barnes.”

Something in the sound of it made you believe that everything would be alright.

“I love you too, Mr. Barnes,” you laughed. “I really do.”

I guess I'll see for myself when I arrive. It won't be long now, darling. Wait for me, I’m almost home.

Always yours,

Bucky

[painted-crow]

Submission time #3

The one who asked about Slytherin primary.

Thank you for answering my submision. 

Yes, the question about what’s up with that trust thing is a good one. I’ll have to think about it. 

As a person who either has or models some kind of fluid secondary for social situations and survival around people, I know that people can do and say stuff they don’t mean, just for that specific moment, just then and there. We all listen to our friends, to our family members, we might not always mean it, but we’ll still play along.

You wouldn't play along with someone you don't care about, though.

That’s what human relationships calls for, at least that’s what I think. (There’s a good chance I’m not a Gryffindor secondary). That’s what I’ve seen even in my friends.

But I also believe that we operate on some kind of principles. We may not really care deeply about something our friend is talking about, but we’ll be there and listen and try to be honest and say what we think if asked, because we care about them. The same way we can sit at the same table, write our essays, share thoughts and care about each other, but after an hour that will be gone, because now we operate on a different principle or thought. But then if your relationship becomes a value, a force on itself, a ‘principle’, that feels safe.

I think, personally, there’s a principle that you don’t talk bad stuff about your friends behind their backs with acquaintances, because if you do, what made you do it? If a friend does it, even if they say sorry, you can’t trust them anymore. You may love them very much, you may come to their parties and be so glad that they’re doing so good, but you know that the trust is broken. It’s hard to get, but has to be sacred. That means I can’t drop my performances with you anymore, I can’t be real and completely raw with them anymore.

Probably that’s why I emphasize trust that much. It means I’ll give you VIP access to my life, my thoughts, myself.

It sounds like what you're saying is, a relationship doesn't feel safe until caring about each other is the rule rather than the exception. You don't fully trust until that's established. It also seems like the relationship doesn't feel "real" to you until that happens.

This seems very Slytherin to me, but for most Slytherins, their inner circle people aren't the only people they'll let themselves believe might care about them. It seems like you're operating like that, though, and you don't have anyone in your inner circle right now, maybe because you're having a hard time trusting people in general. This is kinda textbook burned Slytherin.

Other primaries don't usually have this kind of dichotomy. They have relationships, and some are closer than others, but there's not so much a threshold like "okay, now we belong to each other and I can trust you completely." They may have relationships that are that close, but they wouldn't be able to draw a line showing when it got there.

Using different masks also costs energy, so probably I’m only modeling Slytherin secondary.

Probably a model, but also... doing stuff generally costs energy.

This is so slippery, like I’m trying to balance on some kind of invisible line in order to not be seen as a bad person, and I know I can do it easily and quickly.

Sheesh, you don't even trust yourself. Your brain is a hostile environment.

I managed to minimize my primary sorting to either Gryffindor or Slytherin. Both burned. Your insights on Ravenclaw primary really helped. You guys are really beautiful, and it sounds like your systems are neat and constantly updated, I’d wish I’d do that too, but I don’t have a preference for this kind of method, sadly.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it's not for everybody. Glad the post helped though ^^

You know what’s funny? I can’t think of anything that could have been that traumatic or dramatic to have such an impact on me. Most people go through more than I did my whole life, I’d say I’m the one to blame most of the time for my mishaps. 

So, I have a question... are you autistic? (Or have ADHD? That's a similar experience.) Because if you know the answer is yes, then like... duh. That's going to have an impact.

Otherwise--and I need you to understand, this is coming from a neurotypical-passing autistic girl who's never been formally diagnosed--there's a possibility you're autistic and don't know, and that sucks. A lot of autis who were quiet kids or adapted good social skills get overlooked for diagnosis, but we still go our whole lives being subtly (and not-so-subtly) told there's something wrong with us, until we internalize it, because we don't know any other explanation for why we can't just be like everybody else.

We find ways to act that are "safe" and won't be rejected so quickly. We can have a hard time making friends, partly because it takes so much energy to be around people when we're hyper-aware of how we look to the people around us, constantly monitoring to make sure we don't misstep and accidentally offend people. We ignore our needs in order to fit in with society, and we blame ourselves for having those needs in the first place. We call ourselves lazy or weak or hypersensitive, and we push ourselves to burnout in the name of "just trying harder."

It's exhausting.

If you relate to this? That's a traumatizing experience, and don't let your brain tell you otherwise. Being autistic or having ADHD, in our current society, is incredibly difficult even if no one realizes you aren't neurotypical. (It's easier if you know what's going on, though. Also, you start to find other autis, who are cool people and have A+ taste in memes.)

Or maybe none of this applies to you. It's just some of the stuff you've said, like about having to "survive" social encounters, or being worried about people seeing you as a bad person, or blaming yourself for "mishaps." Some of it reminds me of friends of mine who have c-ptsd. It's enough that I feel like I should ask if you've looked into this.

*sheepishly climbs down from soapbox*

I wanted to say that I collected judgment about the world more than on that situation. Strangely I can relate to some things from the other persons’ submission. I do absorb others opinions, ‘energy’, and it fades away with time after not being around. It costs me energy and effort to hold onto a belief, unless I really feel it, or it stuck, like they said. I have to constantly remind myself ‘this is good, this is right’.

And even then, like for my degree, the thought that I will be able to help people can’t comfort me the same way as the thought that I’m doing this for my family, that they won’t need to worry about my future anymore. It gets better if I can do stuff, that’s why I like to throw myself in situations. Then, in little things, it’s easier to say that this or that feels better in this situation.

My values don't weight the same, some of them are mine, mostly related to the fact that someone hurts someone, something. Others are what I know is right, but I don’t feel it, I collected those, and sometimes I feel like I’m hiding behind them, behind those words. If I’d be a Ravenclaw primary, this wouldn’t be an issue, right?

Starting to think you model burned Gryffindor primary.

Like the other person said here, I don’t have a defined sense of self, but I think this relates more to a secondary than a primary. I used to really overthink this question, but then one day I thought ‘I am me, every day this is me, I’m more my actions and the principles I can find under it then some thought that can easily be proven wrong. I am not the same person I was yesterday but kind of the same in some sense, but it’s logical to me if I base these things on my actions, and those depends on the situation.

So, Gryffindors also construct themselves, in a way. It's much more organic and subconscious than a Ravenclaw system. They don't *have* a system, who they are is the system. They construct themselves out of experiences and actions and decisions and it all comes together into a person with an intuitive understanding of right and wrong.

I get why this looks like it might be a secondary thing, but it's not really about methods--this is how Gryffindors grow into themselves and their beliefs. They're not making up their ideals out of thin air, they do come from somewhere.

I think you might model burned Gryff.

Sounds like Slytherin secondary, but I’d say it’s still always me, I’m still somehow honest, raw, just choosing which face of me to show, but then I don’t work on things, although I like honesty and to invest in relationships, so maybe still a Hufflepuff secondary.

Puff secondaries don't have to be dedicated to everything. If relationships are where you invest, then that's where you invest.

But the bra thing, oh god it does sometimes feel like this. That’s why I like to stay at home most of my free time. By not having to react and act and do and speak I’m most of the time my true self.

Right? Guards down, nobody expects anything of you, you can just chill. Alone time is the best.

Nah, I’m strange, but it’s fine :D

Just as long as you know you're the cool kind of strange ^^

I can’t say I don’t have connections and relationships. I have my family, a couple of friends. Maybe I feel this way because at this point in my life, in this situation, my studies, they aren’t here, not in the same spot as I am. They can’t objectively stand here with me and understand how I feel. Yes, I still feel like it would be fine if I’d only wouldn’t be alone in this situation. I always feel better, stronger, fuller when I find a friend in new places, situations, schools. I’m a loner who wants connection, laughter, shared views and excitement that only a relationship can bring in my life.

Hiss hiss lol.

It looks like now I did not spoke so much about what maybe makes me a Slytherin. Maybe I’m just craving a relationship that would match my situation, that would make me grounded in it, because relationships with my family and friends doesn’t provide me with this. Maybe I’m not one, but Slytherin primary is the one I can understand, and get behind mostly. Gryffindor primary would be... A strange fit. I can understand it but I can’t get behind it, most of the time. It’s like someone saying that they think I’m beautiful. It would leave me blinking for a second and not really understanding are they for real or do they want something from me.

Do you think Slytherin would still be a good fit here?

Yep. Burned Slytherin modeling burned Gryffindor, I think.

P. S. Thank you for your advice, I’m definitely trying to get my own mind untangled.

Sure thing! Hope this helps ^^